


Lost Souls

by 96percentdone (Nakanaide)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Depression, I can't believe I forgot the most important tag, I know it's hard to believe, I promise, I swear on my life, In the afterlife, M/M, Slow Burn, Suicide, Viktor cries too, Viktor with a K, also counts as canon divergence, but I promise okay, but like, did I mention angst yet because, especially me, eventually, everyone is suffering from it, in the afterlife., it's cause this fic takes place, it's okay everyone will cry, more to be added as things develop, soulmate AU - bodyswap, there's angst, when your soulmate dies you die, with that character death tag, y'all gotta trust me a lil okay, you wanna know why that fucking character death tag is there, yuuri cries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-09-30 04:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10153844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakanaide/pseuds/96percentdone
Summary: There were two things that everyone knows about soulmates. The first is you switch with them at some point between 18 and 24, with rare exception. The second is that when your soulmate dies, so do you.Katsuki Yuuri honestly couldn't care about any of that right now. Not after humiliating himself in front of everyone. Should he retire? He doesn't know, but he does know he's has no interest in going to the banquet.Viktor Nikiforov doesn't particularly want to be there either.





	1. Part Zero

It wasn’t his smartest plan to scroll through his phone, not after his miserable loss would be everywhere, but Yuuri had to. It wasn’t a true obligation, but a mentally enforced one, to burn his failures into his mind. He made it this far, only to let everyone down.

“Yuuri! Don’t look at the news. We should go back!” His coach, Celestino cried out, waving his arms, but it’s an exercise in futility. Even if he could get Yuuri to tear his eyes away from the screen, Yuuri would just go back to reading the headlines once he left. Just the headlines, not the articles. The headlines were enough.

’Katsuki Fell to Last place, is This Season his **Last**?’

‘Is Katsuki’s Free Skate a Sign of **Retirement**?”

‘Will Katsuki **Retire** after Disappointing Performance at Sochi?’

An endless stream of headlines all with one theme in common: retirement. Perhaps he should. The world expected it of him, especially after he let everyone down. No, it’s too early to decide that yet. (Even if deep down, he already decided).

> < <> > <

Another win, to no one’s surprise. Viktor Nikiforov’s fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final win. Another success. He should be happy. Should he be happy? What’s the point in celebrating when you don’t feel like you’ve achieved anything? He won, but it was expected. He won, because that’s what Viktor Nikiforov is born to do. Win.

He doesn’t know why he bothers skating anymore. Skating at this point is more of a chore than it is the joy it was when he was younger. He skates, because he’s expected to. He keeps skating because the world begs him to. He’s Viktor Nikiforov, the world’s greatest figure skater. A living legend. Who is he if he doesn’t skate?

A smile for the cameras. A kiss for the gold medal.

He’s king of the world, but all he wants is to throw away the crown.

> < <> > <

Apparently Yuuri can’t even cry in peace in the bathroom without someone else throwing his failures in his face.

_“Oi, I’m competing in the senior division next year. We don’t need two Yuris in the same bracket. Incompetents like you should just retire. Moron!”_

Retire. Again with that word. There’s a neon sign pointing in the direction the world thinks Yuuri’s life should go, and Yuuri’s not even sure he wants to fight it. _Still… do I retire like this? In disgrace?_

He’s not paying attention to Morooka’s questions, but he can still hear the word “retire” over and over. He doesn’t want to think. Not after this. Not after his dog died. Not after he failed his chance to prove himself to Viktor.

“Yuri”

 _Viktor._ Yuuri’s head automatically lifts from his phone, following the direction of the voice.

 “About your free performance…” _Oh, he’s talking to Yuri Plisetsky._ He’s disappointed, but unsurprised as watches the two champions walk past. _Of course Viktor’s speaking to him. He’s got so much more potential. (“Incompetents like you should just retire.”)_

Suddenly, Viktor catches his eyes. Yuuri gasped. _He noticed me staring crap crap crap what do I do what do I **say** —_

“Commemorative photo?” Viktor smiles, turning to face him. He’s open and inviting and-- _Oh._ “Sure.”

  _He thinks I’m just a fan._ The shock and disappointment were drawn clearly over Yuuri’s face as Yuuri turns and walks away.

 “Katsuki-kun? You don’t want a photo with Viktor?” Morooka asks in disbelief.

 “Yuuri!” Celestino calls for Yuuri to come back.

  _I was foolish to think I could prove myself to Viktor._

> < <> > <

The banquet this year, much like every year, was dull and uninteresting. A thousand people Viktor can’t be bothered to remember their names congratulate him on his win, while Viktor smiles pleasantly and thanks them for their support. Occasionally someone asks him if he’s planning to retire, and Viktor responds with the verbal equivalent of a shrug. A non-answer. He doesn’t know what he’ll do. He honestly doesn’t care either.

A few feet away Yakov is scolding Yuri for the 50th time about his improper behaviour. It’s vaguely amusing, but at this point Viktor wonders if Yakov knows how pointless it is to try to correct Yuri’s behaviour, and just continues from habit. It doesn’t matter. Nothing about this banquet matters.

In the distance Viktor spots Celestino Cialdini, by himself. It occurs to him he’s only seen the coach, and not his respective skater Yuuri Katsuki the entire night. Viktor scans the room for what must be the 20th time only to reaffirm that no, Katsuki didn’t show up.

It’s a shame. Viktor wanted to speak to him. For a moment, he thought maybe Katsuki would bring something new.

> < <> > <

_“Are you sure?” Celestino asked, staring with concern._

_“Yeah. I-I’m really feeling sick and it’d do no good if I got sick at the banquet.” Yuuri lied._

_It wasn’t really a lie,_ Yuuri thought to himself, lying on his side on his hotel bed. He did feel sick, but it was anxiety induced. Standing in a room with all those coaches and sponsors and skaters, feeling their eyes on him as they judged him for his failures…just thinking about it made Yuuri want to puke.

So he didn’t go. He’s not going to make a bigger fool of himself than he already did.

_Besides, they all expect me to retire anyway._

> < <> > <

Of course Viktor competes in nationals. It’s expected he does. It used to be that nationals was by far the biggest chore because his only competition was Georgi, but he’s long since reached the point where all competitions are equally tedious.

Naturally, he wins. Viktor Nikiforov has never lost the Russian Nationals…ever. He doesn’t care though. He hasn’t cared about this in ages. But he skates. He skates because he’s got nothing else for him. No family, the closest thing he has to friends is a grumpy old coach and an angry teenage rink mate, no lover. There is nothing but skating.

He takes the podium, and almost forgets to smile. The only thing he can think is _what can I do to escape from this?_

> < <> > <

Yuuri bombed nationals, in ways far worse than the Grand Prix Final. It’s almost impressive, but mostly it’s frustrating. He’s so…disappointed in himself. He might not have been successful at the GPF this year, but Yuuri has always done well in nationals.

Well until this year, where he came in 11th. The skater who came in first, a kid (Minami?)—Yuuri knows he could do better than that. He’s better than that, right? Maybe he’s not. Maybe this is as far as he can go.

He considers tuning in to Four Continents, but that would just rub in how he didn’t make it in. There’s no need to make himself more depressed about his failures. He doesn’t want to stay like this.

In the silence of his room in Detroit, Yuuri thinks: _what can I do from here?_

> < <> > <

As expected Viktor won the European Championship, and he’s in first for the short program at Worlds by a large margin. It’s expected for him to win tomorrow. But he doesn’t care. What’s another gold medal to him anyway? He has so many—as expected. He’s Viktor Nikiforov. All he can do is win.

All he can do is skate. It’s the only thing he has. But… he doesn’t want to skate. Not anymore. But there’s nowhere else for him to go. There’s nothing for him outside skating. Retire? And do what? Coach? He’s sure Yuri would want him, but there’s no appeal in that. Skating vicariously through someone else. He thinks he doesn’t want anything to do with skating anymore at all.

Viktor sighs, packing up his skates as he leaves practice. He doesn’t want to come back tomorrow, but he has nothing else but the ice. At least he only has to come back tomorrow.

> < <> > <

Yuuri’s home. After five long years he’s home in Hasetsu to figure out what to do from here. Pick himself back up. Everyone expects his retirement, considering how dismally he did in competition this year.

He doesn’t want to retire, not in disgrace. He’d like to take gold at least once. He’ll take gold at the Grand Prix Final, and then retire a champion, so as not to push his luck.

It’s why he ran to the rink, immediately after returning home. He felt bad leaving his family again so soon after returning, but he needed to skate. He needed to get on the ice.

It’s not the same as skating with Viktor, but skating Viktor’s free skate tonight is as close as he’ll ever get.

> < <> > <

Viktor skates to the centre of the rink, to the deafening cheer of the crowd. They don’t matter. Viktor, for the first time in a long time, is at peace. It’s sombre and quiet, but peace nonetheless.

He’s positioned to start the program, and as the music starts and Viktor glances upward, he thinks he’s glad this is his grand finale.

(It’s a shame he’ll never get to meet the person he dedicated this to.)

> < <> > <

Minako watches World’s with an intensity unlike ever before. _There’s something…different about Viktor’s free skate today. But what is it?_

“A quadruple flip!” the announcer shouts, and Minako notices the smallest smile across Viktor’s face. Maybe that’s the difference. She hasn’t seen Viktor smile for this program…ever.

But even with that serene little grin, there’s something very sad. Beyond the longing and desperation of the song, there’s something tragic. His smile should not have been there. It was out of place.

Minako watches, as that off-putting peaceful smile never leaves Viktor’s face, wondering what it all could mean.

> < <> > <

Yuuri thinks, as he finishes his rendition of Stammi Vicino, that this feeling is why he loves the ice. It wasn’t a perfect copy, as many of the quads were turned into triples, but it was revitalising.

Yuuri never wants to leave the ice. Skating this routine brought him so close to the reason he decided to skate to begin with. Closer than being at the Grand Prix Final with Viktor did. Closer than skating the same ice Viktor skated on did.

Viktor might not know who he his, but he will. Yuuri will make sure of it next season.

> < <> > <

He won. _Of course I won_ , he thinks searching through the drawers of the hotel nightstand. Doesn’t he always, the now five time consecutive World Champion? For once, he’s not entirely apathetic about his win. Sure, it was expected, and none of the circumstances about skating had changed, but since this was his last time skating at all, he could feel a little pride. He’s leaving behind something to be proud of. He’ll be a legend.

Nobody could ever forget Viktor Nikiforov.

Underneath his pride however, large amounts of despair and apathy were settled in his gut. They swirled and raged for days and months and years until Viktor finally decided what to do about this.

He won’t have to skate anymore. He doesn’t need to constantly stun and impress as Viktor Nikiforov—there won’t be a shackle around his throat strangling him. He won’t be restricted by the ice any longer.

He finds what he’s looking for. A large stash of pain killers.

 _I’m sorry Makkachin._ He thinks, as he stares at the bag filled with different drugs, and pulls out a bottle of pain killers. _You were the closest thing to life and love for me._ His beloved dog doesn’t deserve this. Viktor knows that. He already decided that Makkachin will stay with Yakov. He decided it weeks ago when drafting a note.

Living with Viktor wasn’t fair to Makkachin anyway. He deserved someone happier. Someone who could better take care of him.

They all deserved better than Viktor: the mess at the top of the world who can’t fill the void in his chest. The man who defined himself with ice and hates it.

He pops the cap of the bottle. _I’m sorry. Goodbye._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an asshole; I know. It's kind of intentional. Please forgive me. Just bear with me okay? We're in for an angsty bittersweet ride! (And I told myself I wouldn't write angst for viktuuri...whoops. Awkward. Why am I like this?).


	2. Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was three rules about soulmates. The first is that at some point, usually between ages 18-24, you and your soulmate swap bodies. The second is when you die, your soulmate dies. The third is you're automatically united with your soulmate in death in your own personal afterlife, whether you've met them or not. 
> 
> Katsuki Yuuri wakes up(?) in the middle of a great foggy void, and can only come to one conclusion: he's dead. But why? Last he checked his physical health was fine. And there's Viktor Nikiforov is with him. Is that why? Is Viktor his soulmate? But, why did Viktor die?
> 
> Viktor Nikiforov arrives in the afterlife, and can't believe Katsuki Yuuri is even with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the real summary of this fic. Lmao. I'm sorry for misleading y'all. Not really.

When Yuuri wakes up(?), everything is decidedly far too white. _Have I been… hospitalised? Did something happen in my sleep, I mean I felt perfectly fine yesterday, oh god what if—_ Upon closer examination, it’s not the sterile blinding white of the hospital, which he supposes is good.

Except he’s not sure where he is either. This mess of white clouds, in fact, what is he standing on, (is he standing? _),_ is getting increasingly more confusing. He looks down only to find he’s standing (floating?) in the same white foggy void that surrounds him. _Wait…now that I think about it. I didn’t really wake up here so much as appear here, did I?_

_I’m…dead. Aren’t I?_

The great misty nothingness provided no other conclusion. _But, why did I die? Nothing was physically wrong with me, as far as I know I was perfectly healthy so then—maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe it was my soulmate, oh god what happened to them, wait—_ Yuuri’s thoughts screeched to a halt, staring at the blank expanse. That’s when it hit him.

_Where is…anyone?_

Behind him, Yuuri faintly heard something (breath?), and whipped around to find a shocked Viktor Nikiforov staring at him.

> < <> > <

Viktor’s first thought upon being dead was the lack of anything in the afterlife was a little depressing. All he could see was a never-ending stretch of clouds before him. _You’d think there’d be more to it, since the dead are going to be here forever._ Just to check and make sure he wasn’t missing something, Viktor slowly turned around.

He blinked. _Someone else is here?_ Viktor stares at their back, trying to piece together who the stranger might be. _They look…familiar. They almost look like—wait but if that’s the case they’re also dead. Did I--._ “Fuck” Viktor utters under his breath.

If Viktor wasn’t already dead, he’s sure his heart would have stopped. The person with him whipped around, and standing a few feet away was a very bewildered Katsuki Yuuri.

_Fuck, did I kill him? I didn’t think anyone else was going to die—I didn’t think I had a soulmate! Maybe it’s coincidence? Why is he the only one here—fuck fuck **fuck!**_

“Vik…tor?” Katsuki calls out, confusion and concern coating his voice.

Viktor forced the panic from his face into a casual smile. “That’s right. Sorry, I was lost in thought. You’re… Yuuri Katsuki, right? Pleasure to meet you,” he winked. _You’re dead; why are you still acting?_

“I…y-yeah” Katsuki stutters, completely flustered. “Wait, you know who I am?”

> < <> > <

Yuuri blinks owlishly. He can’t believe Viktor actually recognises him. It’s like a dream come true, but too late for both of them. _Oh._

Viktor’s laugh breaks Yuuri out of his thoughts. “Of course I know who you are,” Viktor grins. “Why wouldn’t I recognise a fellow competitor?”

 _Could have fooled me with that “Commemorative photo” crap._ He doesn’t really have a good response for that, so Yuuri defaults to quiet incoherent mumbling. Still, Yuuri can’t believe it. He’s alone, with Viktor Nikiforov, who apparently knows who he is. It’s like a dream come true for his teenage self. _It’s too bad…we’re both…dead._

The silence in this empty, white void was deafening, as Yuuri finally processes his fate. The only thing he doesn’t understand still, is why.

> < <> > <

If they knew that Yuuri would die in his sleep overnight, the Nishigori triplets probably would not have uploaded that video. At the time, all they were thinking about was how amazing his rendition of Stammi Vicino was, and that the entire world needed to see it. That Viktor Nikiforov _himself_ needed to see it.

They didn’t know Viktor would die either. They didn’t know he would never see it.

Unlike Yuuri’s death, the circumstance of Viktor’s death was a well-kept secret that the girls couldn’t uncover. All they knew is that night, the living legend and Japan’s ace died.

“Hey…”

“Do you think…?”

“Hmm…”

But none of them finished their sentence, and they looped their video once again.

> < <> > <

The awkward silence forced Viktor to realise that for all his ability to charm and flirt and _act,_ he had absolutely no idea how to have an actual conversation. He could shut down the press, tease Yuri and Yakov, smile and laugh for the masses, but he didn’t know how to actually talk to someone. He never had to. When was the last time Viktor Nikiforov had a normal conversation with someone? When was the last time he was presented with that opportunity?

And now he was stuck in eternity with one other man, and he has no idea what to say. _I must be very disappointing right now. I didn’t think this is what this would be like. I didn’t think anyone else would—_

As if on cue, Katsuki breaks the silence, cutting off Viktor’s internal panic before it could even begin. “This…is way different than I thought it would be. I thought there would be more…people. Scenery. Anything really.” Yuuri speaks, gesturing at their cloudy surroundings.

Viktor glances around, as if he’s hadn’t realised this before. (He had. He totally had). “It is rather vacant here, isn’t it?” he muses, finger to his lips. “I’d have thought there’d be more, like trees, or a rink, or” _a rink. Really._

But he didn’t have enough time to sarcastically berate himself, because soon there was an ice rink surrounded by trees where they stood. _Wow!_ For the first time in years, Viktor grinned to himself, genuinely excited. “Aha! So there _can_ be more!!” _This is going to be fun!!_

> < <> > <

The best way to describe Yuuri’s face right now, as trees and a rink suddenly appeared before his eyes, is a combination of slack jawed and gaping like a fish. _He—he just. Said things offhand. And then. They appeared!_ The trees surrounding the rink seemed to stretch as far as the eyes could see.

Yuuri was still trying to process the brand new scenery before Viktor spoke up again. “Hm… this is a weird set up, and I don’t really want a rink right now.” He pondered. “I mean to better match the setting, how about a frozen lake instead of a rink!” Viktor sounded…giddy.

The rink poofed out of existence, immediately replaced by a frozen lake. _Wait—_

Viktor’s almost vibrating with excitement. “Do you think it’s possible for the frozen lake to be perfectly smooth?!”

The bumpy frozen lake was suddenly as smooth as the rink before it. _Wait, slow down—_

“Wow!! I don’t really want to skate, though, so maybe something else. Oh! I know! How about a beach?”

 _That’s completely different!!_ But soon there was a beautiful, pristine beach, and all Yuuri can think about is Hasetsu. _It’d be nice if the beach was the one at home…._ In an instant, the beach transformed into an exact replica of Hasetsu’s. _Oh._

The sight of “home” is overwhelming, and Yuuri realises he won’t ever truly go back.

> < <> > <

“Hmm? That’s weird.” Viktor observes, genuinely confused. Where did the generic, ideal beach go? “Why is it now a different beach?”

Viktor’s remark seemed to snap Katsuki-- Yuuri (they are going to be together for eternity; no need for formality) out of a trance, because he snaps to look at him, before laughing nervously. “Oh that—that was probably me.” He responds, hand behind his neck. “You said beach, and I thought about the one at…home.” The painfully awkward expression on Yuuri’s face fades into one of sorrow.

 _I…I killed him. He can’t… ever truly go home. Because of me._ Things fall into a depressing silence. He doesn’t know what Yuuri’s thinking about. It doesn’t matter what Yuuri’s thinking about. All Viktor can think about is the crushing guilt he has. Whether Yuuri misses home or not, whether Yuuri even loved home or not, it doesn’t matter because Viktor took it away from him. _If I knew—if I knew about you—that you were my soulmate I never would have—_

“I-if you don’t like it, we can change it back to the other beach!!” Yuuri panics, forcing Viktor out of his guilt. “I-it’s not like I care that much! Honestly I didn’t actually think it would change into Hasetsu’s beach; it just kind of did.” Yuuri keeps rambling on about how ‘it doesn’t have to be this beach’ and ‘it’s not that important so if you hate it we can change it’ and the like, and Viktor is amazed.

 _He just…he just keeps going._ And suddenly, Viktor’s laughing.

“Y’know what I’ll just—huh?” Yuuri’s confused, ‘why is he laughing’ clearly written all over his face.

“Ahah, I’m sorry. I just—I don’t mind either way. A beach is still a beach regardless.” Viktor grins. _You are definitely amusing, Yuuri._ “Besides, I only suggested a beach for the heck of it. This beach is totally fine.”

> < <> > <

“Oh” Yuuri wants to die-- vanish. (He can’t die; he’s already dead). _I just kept going on and on—why do I read too much into things? I should just. Not speak. Ever._

“Besides,” Viktor continued, entirely unperturbed, “you’re here too, so what you want is important as well,” He says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Objectively, this makes sense to Yuuri. Subjectively, Yuuri can’t quite deal because in his head, Viktor’s desires are more important than his, and the idea that Viktor Nikiforov actually cares about making Yuuri, a total stranger, comfortable, is completely surreal.

Yuuri just hopes all that isn’t plain to see all over his face. He’s had enough personally-enforced anxiety induced humiliation for one afterlife-time. _I’m never truly going to be free from this, am I?_

Still, the familiar surroundings, so real and yet inherently fake…Yuuri didn’t think he could handle it. Not yet. It’s too soon. Too fresh. He only just arrived home for the first time in five years and he didn’t even get to fully experience it.  He might as well have never went home.

Yuuri feels tears starting to well up in his eyes. God, he really wishes he could be home.

 _Don’t cry, not in front of Viktor._ “I-I think” Yuuri speaks, struggling to keep his voice from cracking, “that for now, I’d like your beach better anyway.” And the set transforms back into the idyllic beach from before.

Yuuri’s eyes close.

_Inhale, 2, 3, 4, hold 2, 3, 4, exhale 2, 3, 4._

His eyes open. _Okay. Mini crisis averted._ (He wasn’t going to question why his soul apparently is capable of breathing in the afterlife, but he’s grateful because he’s still got anxiety in the afterlife).

> < <> > <

Viktor wasn’t going to protest that. He’s not invested either way, but it’s clear that the copy of Hasetsu’s beach brought Yuuri far more pain than comfort, so Viktor had no right to enforce it.

Viktor sits on the sand and stretches out his legs. “It’s certainly beautiful. I wonder if this is based on something real.” His fingers sift through the sand. _It certainly feels real._

Yuuri quietly sits several feet away. He doesn’t say anything, simply watches the waves with a combination of wonder and melancholy. Eventually, he responds with a quiet “yeah, it’s beautiful. If there was anywhere like this, I’ve never seen it.”

 _I haven’t either,_ Viktor thinks, but he doesn’t say anything; he just stares off where the horizon would be, if there was a sun and the sky in this world just like Earth. Suddenly, there’s a blue sky, and something Viktor and Yuuri could pretend was the sun.

It’s not the sun. It’s not the sky. It’s not the horizon. They’re not truly at the beach. This isn’t truly real. An artificial replication of life, of Earth, of home. It’s beautiful, but sad.

Viktor stares into the fake horizon, and mourns just how much he missed in life. He wonders if Yuuri is doing the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... they're dead. This story (mostly) takes place in the afterlife and deals with fun things, like the guilt of inadvertently killing a man, and the struggling to come to grips with the life abruptly stolen from you, and depression, and anxiety, and eventually making peace. 
> 
> It's gonna be a good time. Heavy, angsty, ultimately bittersweet, but I hope you stick around. 
> 
> Coming up with the mechanics of the afterlife is fun.


	3. Part Two

Yuuri has no idea how long he and Viktor have been staring off into the pseudo-horizon. The fake sun in the fake sky doesn’t move or set; it just stays in place, indicating nothing. Even if it did move, it’d still mean nothing as it’s not a real way to track time. Besides, time is irrelevant and in death, and there’s no point tracking eternity.

Still, Yuuri wishes he could keep time. In life on earth _everything_ was kept to time. It feels weird to newly (probably) dead Yuuri that he has no concept of it. _I wonder when I’ll adjust. Although I guess when is irrelevant, huh._

Viktor doesn’t seem to care, as far as Yuuri can tell. Every time Yuuri’s glanced over in his direction, because _oh my god I’m trapped in eternity with Viktor Nikiforov,_ he’s always staring outwards with that same somber face.

 _It doesn’t…suit him._ But then again, what did he know about Viktor? When they were alive he only had a one-sided three-word conversation with the man. In life everything he knew came from interviews with TV shows, and magazines. And now, Yuuri’s learned that Viktor’s easily excited by magic, and for some reason Viktor is dead. _And so am I...._

_I wonder what happened. Was it an accident? Was he sick? He didn’t look sick, maybe—_

“Is there something on my face?” Viktor eyes him, smirking.

Yuuri squeaks, flustered, _I’ve been staring this whole time haven’t I??_ “Oh, um, no, I just, I’m sorry!” Yuuri panics, and Viktor laughs.

“I was just messing with you. It’s okay.” There’s something soft, but lighter about Viktor’s face. He’s smiling again, all traces of that mournful face had vanished.

Yuuri thinks this by far suits him better.

> < <> > <

“Oh,” Yuuri eventually responds, and Viktor wishes that both of them were much better at conversation than they are. Maybe an eternity of awkward silences wouldn’t be so bad, but Viktor would prefer otherwise. _Maybe this is why we’re soulmates; because we both are terrible at conversing._

Soulmates. It’s the first time he really processed it outside of his guilt ( _you killed him you killed him you killed him—STOP)._ Katsuki Yuuri was his soulmate. The person he was fated to be with for life, that he had no idea existed until he died. It’s a little ironic.

 _He’s definitely cute,_ Viktor thinks, watching Yuuri fidget with the bottom of his shirt. He doesn’t make eye contact, keeping those big brown eyes fixed on his hands. _I just wish the circumstances were different._

But they’re not. He won’t spend a short but meaningful life with Yuuri, but an eternal death with him. Probably in silence, at this rate. Viktor wishes he could think of something to say, but this isn’t an interview, and formulaic responses won’t help him. How does he talk to someone, versus react to what people say to him?

He doesn’t know where to begin, but he also knows that making an attempt is infinitely better than sitting here thinking about starting a conversation. _I know nothing about him. Asking anything would be new ground, but at the same time…we’re both dead. And unlike me, Yuuri didn’t want to die. I can’t open up that wound. What do you talk about when you’re dead?_

Viktor had, in many ways, hit a wall. There’s a constant fear that whatever he talks about will trigger Yuuri’s regrets, and yet he can’t just say _nothing._ He quickly glances around, time is ticking. _That’s…weird._

Just as Yuuri is about to turn back towards the water, Viktor pipes up. “It’s weird how there’s no people here.” _If I can’t talk about life, I’ll just talk about death._

> < <> > <

Yuuri’s surprised. He was expecting to drift back into that awkward but strangely comfortable silence for who knows how long. “I’ve thought…the same thing myself.” He answers, slowly. “It’s not like we’re the only people who have ever died.”

The more Yuuri thinks about it, the weirder it gets. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he died to begin with, and now he’s suddenly in this weird customisable afterlife with Viktor Nikiforov. _Just_ Viktor Nikiforov. He got so distracted by the strangeness of it all, he didn’t think. But now that he is— _oh._

 _You’re my soulmate, Viktor. I’m dead because—_ but he doesn’t finish that thought. He’s a conflicted mess of emotions. The eternal Viktor fanboy in him is ridiculously giddy, confused, and shocked, but regular Katsuki Yuuri’s confusion is painful and sad.

“I think that maybe…” Yuuri trails off as Viktor pulls a face that morphs from confusion (was that also fear?) to a smooth, calm smile. Yuuri doesn’t end up finishing his sentence. He’s too overwhelmed to bring it up. Viktor doesn’t try to pry an answer from him, eventually nodding, and resuming to stare off in the horizon.

Yuuri doesn’t turn back around, and just stares as Viktor, analysing his expression, his posture. In the light of the false sun he’s beautiful (he’s always beautiful), and Yuuri gets distracted for a moment. It doesn’t matter how long he stares, he’s no closer to answers. He thinks Viktor maybe looks sorrowful. He doesn’t have the confidence to say it for sure.

_I don’t get it Viktor… .What happened? Why are you dead?_

> < <> > <

As the silence settles in again, Viktor realises he just about failed on all fronts. It wasn’t an actual conversation with Yuuri, just a two-sentence exchange. In the end, Yuuri didn’t finish his third sentence, but Viktor couldn’t stop the pang of fear that ran through him. He thinks Yuuri realised something about his death. He’s glad Yuuri didn’t bring up whatever it was.

Viktor **really** doesn’t want to talk about his death. He doesn’t want to confront his guilt any more than he has to. He’s so guilty of taking Yuuri’s life and he’s got no good excuses for it. Yuuri did not deserve to die. He doesn’t want to hurt Yuuri anymore than he already did by dying.

He’s running away from his problems again. His running is what brought them both here, and he’s clearly learned nothing because he’ll keep running until he can’t find the strength to get up. It’s so much easier to run. It’s easy, and he can’t think of a better solution.

If he couldn’t figure out a way to cope with his issues while he was alive, it’s absurd to think he’d be able to in death.

So he’s hit a wall. Again. Because he doesn’t want to sit in silence with Yuuri for all eternity, but he can’t think of a “safe” conversation topic. He wants to talk to Yuuri. He doesn’t want to confront his guilt for accidentally killing Yuuri. He wants to know everything about Yuuri. His apparent soulmate.

He just can’t ask him everything himself.

Just as Viktor was about to give up entirely, Yuuri slowly speaks up. “Viktor…” Viktor turns to face him, masking his despair and apprehension. Yuuri’s nervous, like he doesn’t truly want to continue, and Viktor’s fear only grows. “Why are you…” he begins, tentatively, and Viktor just about freezes. The pause seems to stretch for eternity. Eventually, Yuuri sighs, and asks “Why did you start skating?”

> < <> > <

Viktor’s surprised, like that wasn’t the question he was expecting to hear. _Well, I wasn’t supposed to ask that either,_ but Yuuri’s not surprised. “I…you did a lot of interviews, but I don’t think you’ve ever answered so…” He continues. _Maybe next time. I’ll ask next time._

The surprise fades, and Viktor frowns contemplatively. For a moment Yuuri thinks he switched to bad territory, before Viktor answers. “My parents were professional pairs skaters. They won quite a lot back in their day. I guess, I wanted to be like them. I thought that maybe…well, it’s a bit of a long story.”

 _We have eternity,_ is what Yuuri wants to say, but death didn’t give him the confidence to intrude on someone’s past. He’ll ask for that story some other time. Maybe when he gets the courage to ask about Viktor’s death. But for now he settles with “were they? I honestly didn’t follow pair skating much. It wasn’t really my thing, so I don’t know much about the history of it.”

Viktor chuckles “it is quite strange, isn’t it? I suppose ice dancing is the odd one out in truth, but it’s elegant. The throws in pairs are certainly something to watch. I’ve wanted to try it once”

“Did you want to throw or be thrown?” Yuuri wonders if Viktor ever dabbled in pairs, considering his pair skating parents were his influence. Does he know how to do the lifts, never mind the throws.

“Be thrown. Landing those jumps after being tossed in the air is the perfect kind of challenge! It looks like fun!” _It sounds terrifying,_ is what Yuuri thinks, but Viktor is almost bouncing from excitement. _It almost looks like—_ “Yuuri! We should try it!”

 _Oh god no why._ “No!! Do you even know how to perform those?!” _It’s risky,_ Yuuri wants to say, but they’re dead. What risk is there? They’re not going to get injured. Probably. He doesn’t actually know, but it wouldn’t make sense if they could.

“Yes!! I used to watch my parents old footage all the time! And when I was younger I actually practiced for pairs a bit. Granted I mostly practiced throwing, but I should be fine!” Viktor’s dead set on this.

“No.” Yuuri rejects, flatly. But Viktor has apparently mastered the kicked puppy face, because seconds later Yuuri sighs. _It’s not like it’ll hurt anyway._ “Fine. Why not.”

Viktor’s elated face as the rink returns makes Yuuri think it might be worth it. _I’m going to need skates._

> < <> > <

At first, Yuri couldn’t believe it. He didn’t believe it. Viktor killed himself? That idiot wanted to die? Why would he? Didn’t he have everything and more? But he and Yakov found him the morning after World’s, dead in his hotel bed, pills scattered everywhere.

It didn’t make sense. It came completely out of nowhere. That’s what he thought at first. But it’s been a few days, and Yuri wonders if he missed all the signs.

He thinks back on his last interactions with Viktor. He originally thought Viktor was in a slump. That he lost all inspiration, and it was getting him down. One moment in particular stands out:

V _iktor sighs, crumpling up the paper in front of him and throwing it behind him. “No that won’t work either…” Yuri thinks he’s trying to create a new program._

_“If you can’t think of a way to continue maybe you should just give up already, geezer!”_

He had snapped. He didn’t realise it wasn’t a program draft. He didn’t realise Viktor was already giving up.

 _You were supposed to choreograph a winning program for me, moron._ It’s easier to pretend he only cared about the program.

> < <> > <

“Viktor, maybe we should stop. This is like…the eightieth time you’ve fallen.” Yuuri winces, as Viktor struggles to get up. So it turns out there is pain in death, but it’s extremely muted compared to life. So falling on the ice 80 times will start to hurt a lot after a while. _Was it really eighty times?_ His back seems to agree.

“Nope! I can do it again! Just once more.” Viktor declares, before visibly wincing because he stepped on his left funny. _That was a mistake._

The look Yuuri gives him is a better retort than anything he could actually say in response. Eventually, Yuuri shakes his head. “I think we should take a break. I didn’t think pain would be possible here, but I guess it is. The good news is you’ll probably recover quickly, considering how long it took for you to even get that way.”

“It’s so unfair. We’re dead, why is pain even an option? We’re just souls!” Viktor bemoans. “the idea that souls should feel pain is just ridiculous...” Viktor grumbles under his breath.

Yuuri laughs. Whether it’s at Viktor’s pain or his childish behavior, he doesn’t know. But it’s light and airy and _wonderful,_ and Viktor thinks _oh. Maybe this is why you’re my soulmate._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look they're slowly bonding. It's wonderful. I've never written a romance in my life. This is new for me. Also I have no idea how frequently this will update, but hopefully it'll be soon!
> 
> Once again the mechanics of death are really, really fun. Time in death is both constantly passing and frozen. There is no time in death. As for pain... you got me. I just wanted Viktor to fucking hurt himself lmao. I've decided now it's like, a phantom limb thing. Where you don't have a body anymore, but your soul still behaves like you do.


	4. Part Three

Yuuri still can’t believe that you can feel pain in the afterlife. But it’s been some time, and Viktor still frowns when he moves just a little too weirdly. Yuuri thinks he’s healing; _can you really call it healing if we’re both dead?_

He laughed earlier, but Viktor did have a point. Feeling pain in the afterlife makes no sense. Then again it probably wasn’t fair to judge death by the expectations you have in life. When you’re alive you have no concept of what it’s like to be dead, only that you’re going to die. Anything you can imagine is ultimately just speculation. So if it turns out you can feel pain in death, you just have to roll with it.

Yuuri aimlessly skates figure eights on the ice. An ice rink surrounded by a beach is a weird visual, but he supposes he’ll have to get used to weird sights like this. Just like he’ll have to get used to Viktor Nikiforov being his sole companion. His soulmate.

He glances over to Viktor, who’s opted to sit on the wall of the rink versus on the sandy beach. Viktor shifts slightly, grimaces, and grumbles to himself, and Yuuri can’t believe it. Viktor Nikiforov, _the_ Viktor Nikiforov, the legend, his _idol,_ is his soulmate. And he’s just so _childish._

In Yuuri’s wildest teenage daydreams, Viktor was his soulmate. He was cool and suave, and has everything entirely under control. As graceful in real life as he is on the ice. Nowhere in Yuuri’s mind was Viktor the kind of guy who grumbles and whines like a kid for ages over a little bruising, and who sits on things not meant to be sat on.

Eventually, when Yuuri hit 21, he gave up on the idea. Viktor was outside the range of ages, and probably didn’t have one, although there were plenty of “did we find Viktor Nikiforov’s secret soulmate” conspiracies. Some days, Yuuri thought that maybe the powers that be thought no one could be worthy of Viktor. But here Viktor is, Yuuri’s soulmate, only made aware of this through death.

_If we lived longer than this, I wonder if we’d ever even know._

> < <> > <

 “You learned figure eights, Yuuri?” Viktor leans back, hands gripped at the front of the barrier to keep balance. “Compulsory figures haven’t been obligated since 1990.”

Yuuri snaps out of his daze, temporarily stopping before resuming in the opposite direction. “They’re not, but I’ve always found them relaxing, so it’s become a bit of a habit for me.”

Viktor hums in response, hopping off the barrier back onto the ice. “Most people don’t bother learning them because they’re not necessary anymore.” He joins Yuuri in his backwards figure eights. “Yakov makes all his skaters learn them, regardless of their use, but I never particularly enjoyed it. I’d much rather practice jumps.”   _Or at least, I did, before all of skating became miserable,_ is what he doesn’t say. That’s far too much information.

Yuuri maneuvers further to the left, keeping at least a foot of space between them as they travel the ice in loops. “Practicing jumps was never fun for me.” Yuuri replies. “Of course, I had to, and I did them more than willingly, but it was certainly frustrating.”

“That’s because you can’t land them.” Yuuri’s face morphs into something slightly embarrassed and scandalised. _Was I too blunt?_ Viktor was vaguely aware he didn’t have much, if any tact, except up until now he’s never cared all that much. Yuri and Yakov were going to be angry anyway, and the public never saw it. But Yuuri isn’t any of them.

He thinks Yuuri might have muttered something along the lines of ‘not being a prodigy like you’, but he wasn’t going to call Yuuri out on that. Yuuri doesn’t know just how hard Viktor worked to become the top skater.

To the world at large, Viktor appeared out of nowhere, already breaking records at sixteen. To everyone, he came onto the ice as a god, and only grew from there. And he never bothered to correct anyone on this. He was always tight-lipped with the media. Publically personable, but giving away nothing personal. So why would Yuuri know?

Yuuri seemed to take his silence as some sort of challenge, because he was speeding away, about to go in for another jump.

> < <> > <

Yuuri has accepted he’s dead. He’s accepted that, for some reason, there’s pain in death, even if it takes much more for it to occur. And he knows, that there’s no reason for him to ever practice jumping again. But if he can’t do this quad salchow right now, if he can’t prove he can land this jump, he’ll never forgive himself.

So he takes off. He thinks he sees surprise cross Viktor’s face as he goes through his four rotations, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is the landing. The ice is fast approaching, and for once, Yuuri doesn’t hit the ice. Sure, he touched down. Being dead didn’t turn him into a skating genius. He knows this.

Yuuri frowns. That’s not the result he quite wanted, even if it’s better than what normally happens. What happened when he was alive.

“You weren’t going fast enough. That’s why you couldn’t quite land properly.” Viktor cuts in before Yuuri can get too annoyed with himself. “Ideally you should be the same speed throughout the jump, although I’m sure you already know that.”

 _I do. You don’t have to tell me that._ Yuuri takes a deep breath. Relax. _There’s no need to be this hung up about it._  “Still, it’s progress. I’m used to falling.” How many times did he fall in nationals? Was it all of his jumps? Oh. No. He landed one. Just one.

Even if he perfects the salchow, there’s really no point, is there. He’s dead. He’ll never be in another competition or otherwise ever again. He no longer needs to prove anything to anyone. There’s no one to prove anything to. Except Viktor.

 _Let’s do it again,_ Yuuri thinks, as he gears up for another jump. There’s no point in practicing—he knows this. No one else will ever see any progress he makes. Nobody except Viktor. That’s why he has to do it again. To get it right.

If Yuuri wasn’t allowed the chance to prove himself to Viktor when he was alive, then he’ll just do it in death. That he was worthy to skate on the same ice as him. That he was capable of challenging him for the throne, and winning it. And maybe, although he only knows it now, that he’s worthy to be Viktor’s soulmate.

He’s got all the time in the world to try.

> < <> > <

The funeral is a small affair. Mari’s parents didn’t want all of Japan to come, so it was mostly among Yuuri’s family, his friends, and his coach. She doesn’t blame her parents for this. She doesn’t want the whole world here either.

The priest continues chanting a sutra, and her mother bursts into tears again. Her father is trying his best to keep it under control, for his wife, for his daughter, but fails, tears streaming down his face. Mari will not cry. It’s not because she doesn’t mourn, but someone needs to be strong for this family, and she’s volunteered.

Eventually, they’re allowed to approach the casket, and lay down flowers. She places hers to the left of his face, and it’s here she lingers.

_‘Mari-nee-chan!’ ‘Mari-nee-chan.’ ‘Mari-nee-chan..’_

That’s her little brother. He’s dead. He’s never coming back. He just came home and was cruelly ripped away again, for good. She’ll never see him skate, hear him speak, watch him grow ever again. Her beloved little brother is dead.

They never knew his soulmate. Odds are Yuuri didn’t know either, but they know that their death killed Yuuri. And Mari…well she has an idea who it is. They might not have publically released the cause of death yet, but the lack of information is revealing enough on its own.

As she walks away from the casket, she thinks she wants to burn Yuuri’s entire Viktor collection.

> < <> > <

Viktor’s back to sitting on the wall, watching Yuuri skate. He’s impressed with Yuuri’s stamina. It’s possible that souls have no concept of stamina, considering that he practiced those pairs throws 80 times, but Viktor’s entirely lost count of how many times Yuuri has practiced this jump. Viktor tried, and at about 140, he gave up. _Maybe souls have a greater tolerance for everything, but if that’s the case Yuuri still has impressive stamina regardless._

He’s making progress, though. The amount of times Yuuri hits the ice compared to touching down on the ice, and even correctly landing it, is shrinking more and more. He lands it more consistently. Viktor’s...impressed. He’s impressed Yuuri is even bothering to practice when there’s nothing to prove at all. He isn’t accomplishing anything. He has a new skill and no real use for it, and yet he keeps going. Viktor honestly doesn’t understand, but Yuuri’s determination is nothing short of awe-inspiring.

“Yuuri,” Viktor breaks the silence, but Yuuri doesn’t seem to hear him as skates around the rink getting ready to go in for yet _another_ jump. “Do you ever get tired? Plus, considering how many times you fell initially, I’d think you were in pain.”

At that Yuuri slows down, switching from jump mode to just skating laps. “No, not really. I still have plenty of energy. Plus most of the pain is really dull.” He half shrugged, like he didn’t even register he was in pain until now.

An amused smile crosses Viktor’s lips. He can tell Yuuri wants to keep practicing, but isn’t because Viktor is still talking to him. “Your stamina is impressive.”

This startles Yuuri, and his eyebrows furrow. “We’re dead. I don’t think stamina is a concept anymore.” He’s deflecting, but it’s apparent he’s confused that Viktor even complimented him at all.

“Well we didn’t think pain was a concept in death either just a short bit ago, and yet here we are, right?” Yuuri frowns, and Viktor chuckles. “But even if stamina truly doesn’t exist here, I can tell by the way you keep going at it that it’s something you’re used to doing in life. And that must be because of your stamina, right?”

> < <> > <

Yuuri can’t think of a response to that. It all makes sense, plus it’s entirely true. Yuuri did used to practice the same jump nonstop for ages until he ran out of energy for it. He’s surprised Viktor noticed, even if he’s not sure why. Yuuri eventually settles with a nod in acknowledgement, and goes back to practicing his quad salchow.

…Or at least, he would, if Viktor didn’t start speaking again. “Yuuri, you should take a break.” _Why? It’s not like I can work myself to exhaustion here,_ is what he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Pain exists in death, so it’s very well possible he could.

Besides, Viktor’s probably bored. There’s no concept of time in death, but Yuuri knows there’s nothing particularly exciting about walking someone practice the same jump at a beach rink for who knows how long. He’d much rather skate. Skating is an excellent way to escape your thoughts while giving you enough time to process them. He still has so much he wants to prove, and he has so many things he wants to ask. But they can wait. “…Alright,” Yuuri concedes.

Viktor lights up. _Yep. He was bored,_ and in an instant his skates, the rink, and the beach all vanish. Viktor falls to the ground, having apparently forgot that by taking away the rink he took away his perch. “I’m still not fully adjusted to being able to will things out of existence,” he grumbles.

 _He’s so ridiculous!_ Yuuri snickers, and, for a moment, forgets all his questions. Maybe they can wait for a little while longer. After all, he’s got eternity to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of things: 1) I know nothing about skating. I tried to research some things but I'm probably still wrong I'm sorry.  
> 2) My research on Japanese funerals was pretty successful though I think!
> 
> So? Are you suffering? I suffered writing Mari so I have to hope you did reading it lol. This is the fastest I've churned out a chapter. I'm very proud of myself!


	5. Part Four

Viktor should have probably thought this through more. Sure, he got Yuuri to take a break, except now they’re just standing in the foggy white void again because he didn’t think of something for them to do that _wasn’t_ skating at the beach rink. _Great work, Viktor. Way to think ahead._

Yuuri decides to end the silence. “What did you want to do Viktor?” _Don’t you already know I have nothing in mind?_ But the bewildered, if slightly exasperated, look on Yuuri’s face proves that he thought Viktor had more than half an idea.

“I thought,” Viktor starts, internally scrambling for a way to cover up his mess, “that maybe you should pick something. Since the rink and the beach were both my ideas.” _Perfect._

Yuuri gives him a look, a look at clearly screams “you made me stop skating for this.” He hopes Yuuri’s not actually annoyed with him. It’d put a damper in his ‘get to know your soulmate’ plan.  It lasts all of two seconds before he blinks, shakes his head, sighs, and responds. “I was pretty content with skating.”

 _Cheeky. How do I come back to that?_ “Well…” _Think, Viktor. Think!_ “Considering how death doesn’t work how either of us really pictured it, it’s possible you could somehow overdo it, and that wouldn’t be good. I wouldn’t know how to treat the dead.” He can’t stop himself from grinning. _That’s pretty good, if I do say so myself._

Yuuri hums in response, frowning. _Guess Yuuri’s not as impressed as I am._ Viktor’s vaguely disappointed by this, but pushes it aside. “That makes enough sense, but I haven’t actually thought about anything.” Yuuri looks down in thought, thumb rubbing against his closed fist at his side. His face is unreadable except when his mouth occasionally twitches into a frown, before going back into that thoughtful look. Finally he looks up. “Can we eat?”

 _…Eat?_ “If you asked me this before I somehow bruised my soul by falling onto the ice too many times, I’d say no. Except considering that pain is real in death, I think souls can eat.” Viktor doesn’t think they can get hungry, but he does think they can eat if they want. After all, they can summon a rink and a beach simultaneously.

“I meant more along the lines of if that’s something you’d…never mind. I agree with that.” Yuuri shuffles uncomfortably, waiting for Viktor to say something.

Viktor softens at that. _I asked him what he wanted to do, and he still defers to me._ “Of course we can, Yuuri.” It didn’t take long at all for him to grow fond of Yuuri.

> < <> > <

Yuuri’s flooded with relief, which is surprising in that he didn’t think he was _that_ anxious. “Oh. Okay. Cool.” _I’m going to have to adjust to Viktor, especially since he’s my soulmate._ He summons a general restaurant that vaguely resembles one near home. He chooses to ignore how it’s entirely empty except for them. He takes a seat and watches as Viktor takes his. He’s beautiful and graceful even in such a basic act. Yuuri almost convinces himself Viktor can’t be real. _We’re apparently made to be, but…it’s so hard to picture myself as someone on his level._

Viktor glances around his surroundings, taking it in. “Did you want anything specific, Yuuri?” He inquires. “Or did you just want to see if you could eat?”

“No, no I wanted…something specific,” Yuuri replies. He thought of katsudon. He knows he shouldn’t have. It’s too soon, and he’s never going to have his mother’s again because she’s still alive, and he’s…dead. But he wants it; there’s nothing as comforting as katsudon.

Viktor waits, silently prompting Yuuri to continue, but Yuuri’s too lost in the idea of katsudon to actually reply. “What did you want?” he asks, breaking Yuuri from his trance.

“Katsudon.”

“Katsudon?” Viktor’s puzzled, and it only just occurs to Yuuri that Viktor has _no idea_ what that is.

“Yeah, it’s a fried pork cutlet over egg and rice and—you know what just—here.” Yuuri scrambles, and two dishes spawn on the table. If Yuuri wasn’t nostalgic already, the smell would have done him in entirely. It smells like…home. The home where he’ll never truly be again.

Viktor stares at the dish in delight and wonder. Like the dish itself was magic, and not how it arrived there. Tentatively, he picks up his chopsticks, and takes a piece of pork. Yuuri watches in nervous anticipation, because _oh my god what if he hates it this was a terrible idea—_

Viktor takes a bite, and lights up. “Vkusno!” Yuuri doesn’t speak Russian, but he can guess what that means as Viktor devours the bowl.  “It’s delicious! It’s too good for words! Is this what god eats?!” It’s slightly difficult to understand him, because he can’t stop eating as he talks, but Yuuri’s glad.

Yuuri takes a stab at it at his own. As soon as the pork meets his tongue he regrets it all immediately. _It tastes…_ He’s not going to cry. He’s _not_ going to cry. It’s just a dish. He’ll be okay.

Viktor finishes scarfing down his dish, and turns to Yuuri. His face falls at Yuuri’s expression. “Is it not good?” he asks, the ‘are you okay?’ apparent on his face.

“Yeah,” Yuuri nods, shifting the contents of the dish with his chopsticks. “I was just surprised at how authentic it was. It tastes like my mom’s” But it’s not his mom’s. She didn’t make this for them. He’ll never see her again.

> < <> > <

He can’t keep this covered up for long. Yakov knows this. But he wanted time to grieve before the inevitable shitstorm that would come with the reveal that _the_ Viktor Nikiforov committed suicide. They had their funeral. Small and private. The only people in attendance were, Lilia, his skaters, Christophe Giacometti, and himself. Nobody else was invited, and an absurd amount of money was paid to keep the press out. Even after all the effort he put in to keep this under wraps, the date and time leaked out anyway. But it went over fine, surprisingly entirely uninterrupted.  

So now there’s just Yakov, not quite alone in his apartment, trying to think of a statement for the press. _Vitya, why did you leave your dog to me?_ Makkachin, normally full of energy, hasn’t done much in the past few days except mope in Vitya’s old room. Yakov wishes he had the time to do the same himself. But he can’t. He has to prepare himself for announcing that Vitya committed suicide.

The worst part of all this is Yakov _knew_ something was wrong. Yakov practically raised him, and it was so obvious to see that the something was wrong with Vitya. His joyful, excitable self was now just an empty shell. _I should have done more._

Yakov had asked, more than once, if Vitya was okay. He got the same response every single time.

_“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” a forced cheeky grin. “You must be seeing things in your old age, Yakov!”_

Every single time he would lose his temper in response while thinking to himself “maybe I imagined it.” Or “he’ll talk eventually. He always does.” “He’ll be fine.” He should have known better. He should have called Vitya out. He should have sent Vitya to therapy. There are so many things Yakov should have done.

As he finalizes what he’ll say, the guilt settles in his gut. It’s far too late to do anything.

> < <> > <

So maybe it was a mistake to let Yuuri decide, even if katsudon is the most delicious thing Viktor’s eaten in years. Yuuri doesn’t really eat; he mostly just stares at the bowl he’s fidgeting with, filled with melancholy. Occasionally, he slowly takes a bite, like he’s aware Viktor’s watching him in concern to put up some kind of front, but it’s not working.

 _This was definitely a mistake,_ Viktor thinks. He doesn’t want to see Yuuri look like that. He’d rather Yuuri look amused, or happy or content. He thinks he should be a little more concerned about Yuuri’s food related nostalgia leading him to ask Viktor about why he died, because he still really doesn’t want to talk about that. He’s not. Or rather, he is, but he’s more preoccupied with making Yuuri look less sad.

Maybe it’s because they’re soulmates. Or maybe it’s because Viktor always falls hard and fast. Maybe it’s both. But whatever it is, this melancholic Yuuri can’t stay. The only problem is Viktor, ever so awful at actually dealing with people, doesn’t know what to do.

What does he say to someone who misses home? Viktor has never missed his family. He left home when he was young and never looked back. There was nothing to miss; no fond memories or strong bonds. He can’t relate.

The only thing he can think of is saying ‘are you going to finish that?’ because a part of Viktor is still hungry, and that’s one way to take away the problem. But that’s immature, and won’t really solve anything.

He just wishes there was something he could do.

> < <> > <

Yuuri’s aware that the longer he takes to eat this the more questions he raises. After all, wasn’t it his idea to eat? Didn’t he pick the dish? Didn’t he want this? Then why isn’t he enjoying it? Viktor has to have picked up on this by now, even if he’s not saying anything.

He wants to be home. Yuuri desperately wants to be home. He wants to hear his dad’s stupid jokes as he works behind the counter, occasionally sneakily watching the football game. He wants to talk to his sister, listening to her fangirl about her favourite idol and not so subtly tease him about his. He wants to eat his mom’s home cooking, raptly paying attention to everything her family says while making more with a smile.

He was _just_ home. He wants to go back, to be with family. He misses them so much, but he can’t be with them. Because he’s dead.

 _Don’t cry. Don’t. Cry._ He wills himself as he feels tears ready to spill. Viktor definitely has to have noticed by now. Yuuri pushes the unfinished bowl away from him slowly. “Yuuri—”

“Viktor.” Yuuri has to know. He should ask Viktor now. Ask him about why he died. Why Yuuri was ripped away from his own life without warning like this. Why he can’t ever go home. He’ll ask this time. He’s got to.

> < <> > <

Viktor patiently waits for Yuuri to speak. He’s apprehensive. There’s a question on Yuuri’s tongue dying to be asked, and Viktor knows what it is, and he’s afraid. Because he has no good answer. Whatever he could say won’t fix this. It’s entirely Viktor’s fault Yuuri’s dead. All Yuuri’s grief and regrets trace directly back to himself. His answer will only make things worse. And more selfishly, his answer will cause Yuuri to rightfully hate him.

“Viktor, I—” Yuuri tries again, choking on his words like he can’t get them out. He visibly struggles more with trying to form his sentence, before the everything around them disappears. “I’d like to go back to skating, if that’s alright.”

Viktor knows that’s not what Yuuri wanted to say, but he’s not going to call him out on it. Viktor brings back the rink. Just the rink. “What unfitting place should the rink be now? Beside a volcano? That’s a fun visual!” In an instant, his imagination springs to life, the same rink as before, in front of a towering volcano. “You think having the volcano smoke would be too excessive?”

Yuuri snorts, summoning his skates back. “Next you’ll ask for lava to surround the rink and accidentally horribly burn your soul forever.” He glides onto the ice.

“Yuuurriiiii,” Viktor pouts, and the atmosphere between them is much lighter than before. But Viktor can’t shake that something simmers under the surface, waiting to erupt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That one line about Makka is gonna kill more than anything else I have to offer I can feel it. Anyway, Vitya's in Love™. Fucker falls fast that's canon alright leave me be. It's still gonna be slow as shit for Yuuri. And Viktor too honestly it's gonna take them a while to get their shit together lmao.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Part Five

It was a good call to go back to skating. Nothing quite settles his anxiety and eases his pain like the repetitive motion of compulsory figures. When he was alive he could have done them for hours. He’s dead though, with no concept of time, but he could probably skate them forever. Well he has forever, and considering just how much easier it is for Yuuri to get lost in one activity to forget all else, it’s very likely he would.

Well, he would if Viktor wasn’t around. Viktor hasn’t said or done anything to interrupt him this entire time, although Yuuri expects that can’t last forever. Whenever Yuuri glances his way, he appears to be staring aimlessly at the volcano. Sometimes they make eye contact. Something flashes across Viktor’s face that Yuuri can’t quite place, before Yuuri shrugs it off and goes back to skating.

This happens for…ages. It’s so hard to keep track of time in a timeless place, but it’s apparent it’s been quite some time. Yuuri thinks maybe he should do something about it, but at the same time isn’t sure what to do to begin with. The air is decidedly uncomfortably awkward, but Yuuri has no means of fixing it.

He doesn’t notice Viktor’s gotten up in the time he’s spent pondering for a solution, and slid onto the ice. At least, not until he almost skated into him. Yuuri abruptly breaks. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you’d—”

“It’s fine, Yuuri.” Viktor smiles, and Yuuri thinks it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, but what does he know? Yuuri spaces, and Viktor skates away. He’s not sure what Viktor’s doing. He mostly skates the rink aimlessly, occasionally going through small bits of old routines, weaving them into a strange pattern. It’s beautiful and scrambled and Yuuri isn’t quite sure what to make of it. Strangely enough, it reflects how Yuuri feels about Viktor: disjointed attempts at piecing together answers.

But he’ll watch Viktor skate his messy routine, and maybe by watching he can put it together.

> < <> > <

Viktor isn’t entirely sure what he set out to accomplish by skating, but he’s frustrated that he hasn’t accomplished it by now. All he’s done is switch between his own programs, to other famous programs, to things he long since scrapped, to his attempts at planning a program for Yuri, to his attempts at planning a program for himself—oh. That’s why he’s annoyed.

He wants to make another program. A short program, a free skate—it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know where the urge came from. Maybe it was from watching Yuuri practice skating for ages with nothing to prove. Or maybe it’s to get out his guilt. Most likely it’s both, but he’s not succeeding with either.

Viktor skates a quad flip. It’s still too elegant, not at all reflective of his mental state, and for a moment he’s jealous of Georgi’s innate ability to skate his emotions. When he was alive, he might have said Georgi’s overly emotional programs ultimately lead to his lower scores, but right now he wishes he could vent the same way. He was never good with words, or art, and he’s only good with music when it comes to finding the perfect song for a program.

It’s hard feeling like you can’t do the one thing you’re good at. It’s also hard not being able to let out all your feelings through the one thing you know you can do. Especially when it feels like you can’t even do it.

 _This would be easier if I had actual music,_ Viktor thinks, but he doesn’t. _Wait, why can’t I have music?_ In an instant there’s a speaker system, hooked up to a laptop which should contain Viktor’s music library. Viktor skates over to the laptop sitting semi-precariously on the rink wall. _Yep, there it is._ Viktor’s entire, surprisingly large music library. He clicks the playlist of potential short program songs, scrolling through it. _No, no, no, definitely not I thought that was a good idea when I was a child—_

Yuuri, curious, skates over, although keeps himself a few feet away from Viktor. “What are you…looking for?”

> < <> > <

“Music to work with,” Viktor replies, not looking away from the screen. He keeps frowning and shaking his head. Yuuri peers closer, careful to keep a good amount of space between them. _Is this how a genius works? It’s…really inefficient. I mean, I’ve never picked my own music myself but this…can’t be a good approach._

“Wouldn’t you…better know what to work with, if you just…let songs play and see if they inspire you?” _Do you even remember exactly how all these songs go that you’re vetoing?_

“But there’s so many, Yuuri!” _And who’s fault was that._ “I’ve got to narrow it down somehow—oh, wait maybe this one.” Viktor hits play. A quiet, depressing piece plays for all of five seconds before Viktor goes “No, that won’t work, never mind.” Yuuri sighs, shakes his head and goes back to skating himself.

This process repeats itself for who knows how long, and Yuuri’s starting to get mildly annoyed that Viktor won’t let any of these songs finish. He can’t get immersed in skating with inconsistently cutting out music. Viktor meanwhile is getting increasingly more annoyed with his own music selection, bitter incoherent muttering growing more frequent with each rejected song. _But what can I do?_ Yuuri ponders.

_“Hey Yuuri, Ciao Ciao isn’t here. Let’s play a game!”_

A memory flashes through Yuuri’s mind, and suddenly he’s got it. “Hey, Viktor I have an idea.” Viktor turns to him expectantly, and Yuuri almost backs out immediately because _what if this is a terrible idea—_ but he doesn’t. “My friend Phichit and I, when we were bored, and our coach wasn’t around, would sometimes just put music on shuffle and try to…improvise a program?” Viktor didn’t immediately react, and Yuuri started backpedalling. “We don’t have to, obviously; I just thought it’d be better than struggling with music for hours or whatever—”

Viktor shakes his head, smiling slightly. “It sounds like it’d be fun, not to mention a good exercise in choreography. Let’s do it!” Viktor puts his music on shuffle. “You’ll be joining me right?” He asks, eagerness plain to see.

He wants to back out. Doesn’t want Viktor to see his mediocre choreographing skills, but Viktor looks so excited to do this with Yuuri that he doesn’t. “Yeah, of course.”

> < <> > <

Phichit thought he could get used to Yuuri not being around the apartment. When Yuuri originally left for Hasetsu, Phichit had thought ‘I’ll see him again! Maybe he’ll even move back in one day.’ Cliché as it is, it was a ‘see you later’ not ‘goodbye.’ But Yuuri died, almost immediately after he left, or so it felt like to Phichit. So now he’s alone in their apartment, forced to adjust to a permanent absence.

He knows someone else needs to move in, that way he can pay the rent. He’s already printed the ads. Phichit also knows that almost nothing of Yuuri’s stuff is still in this apartment, but he doesn’t want to move on yet. He can’t let it go. The minute someone else moves in means accepting Yuuri’s gone forever, and he’s just…not quite ready to do that yet. He knows no one could ever replace Yuuri; he also can’t bear the possibility that they might.

He didn’t notice he has unconsciously walked over to Yuuri’s room, hand lightly resting on the door handle. Slowly, he pushes the door open. The room is as empty as he expected it to be, a bare bed and perfectly clean bookshelves. _I should clean up a bit. There’s dust everywhere,_ he thinks, but his eyes glue themselves to a shadow poking out under the bed. _He must have forgot something._ Phichit sits on his knees next to the bed and reaches for the object.

It’s a poster, rolled up and rubber-banded. He doesn’t have to open it to know who it’s of. It’s of Viktor Nikiforov, the man at the center of Yuuri’s world.

There was a time, before Yuuri died, where Phichit thought maybe, just maybe, he and Yuuri were soulmates. It’d be nice. They got along so well, and Yuuri quite frankly was beautiful, from his looks to his soul, even if he didn’t see it. He knew he could be happy with Yuuri for all time. He was almost, _almost_ in love.

But they’re not soulmates; Yuuri’s dead and he’s still here, and Yuuri’s soulmate is one Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor Nikiforov, who killed himself, and took Phichit’s best friend away from him.

He crushes the poster in his hand, and cries for a love that never was, and a friend who is no more.

> < <> > <

“Really Yuuri? You’d put an Ina Bauer there?” Viktor teases Yuuri’s amateurish choreography. _He doesn’t have much experience with this huh_. Still, Viktor’s having a lot more fun with skating than he has in quite some time.

Yuuri furrows his brow and frowns, arms folded over his chest. “I don’t want to hear anything from the guy who just choreographed a short program and insisted on only doing quad flips as his jumps. And fell because he tried doing them in combination.”

Now it’s Viktor’s turn to pout. “Hey I thought it might be possible in death, considering just how much we can do!” How was he supposed to know that some things are just impossible? “Besides, it was just a joke, Yuuri!”

“Just let me put my Ina Bauers wherever I want in peace, Viktor.” Yuuri responds in faux exasperated annoyance, unable to keep a smile from creeping on his face. “Now start the song over, because you distracted me.” He demands without any of the harsh tones of an order. Viktor loves this Yuuri, playful and free with quips and less nervous in his presence. He thinks he’d do anything to keep Yuuri like this forever. He then thinks he doesn’t want to commit to this Yuuri because he’ll miss out on the rest of him.

The song starts from the top, and Yuuri make minor revisions as he skates through his improvised choreography. Viktor’s mesmerised, unable to look away from Yuuri’s graceful if slightly disjointed improvised program. Viktor realises that even if he turned the music off, Yuuri’s skating would continue to create it. _Your programs at Sochi really didn’t suit you at all. You clearly could have done something so much better—something breath-taking. You have the potential to be so much better than me! What got in your way? What happened?_

He doesn’t ask, just continues watching Yuuri skate like there’s nothing else in the world. _He’s beautiful. He should be making a comeback right now not skating for one former legend for all eternity._ He ignores that his rash decision took Yuuri’s comeback away from him. He’s trying to avoid that guilt.

He’d much rather get lost in Yuuri’s skating.

> < <> > <

Yuuri doesn’t know the name of the song he’s skating to. He’s not sure he cares either. Sure, his choreography isn’t spectacular, but for once he feels confident in his choices. He’s not sure where it came from, but he’ll relish in it while it lasts.

Eventually, the song stops, and Yuuri strikes his final pose, one arm stretched to the sky, panting. “Well?” He breathes, eager for a response, some kind of acknowledgement from Viktor. “How was that?”

Viktor blinks, as if he slowly woke from a daze. _Were you even paying attention?_ “It was beautiful, Yuuri.” He replies, soft. Genuine. “Even if I still think that’s a poorly placed Ina Bauer,” he teases.

Yuuri can’t even pretend to be annoyed with that, because Viktor thinks his skating is actually beautiful. He hopes his flustered state isn’t readily apparent on his face. Viktor, his lifelong idol, sees art in his skating. The man he’s aspired to be like thinks that Yuuri’s skating is beautiful. His improvised, amateurish, disjointed mess is apparently good enough.

“My turn!” Viktor calls out, restarting the same song. “Now watch and learn from the master on where you should place those Ina Bauers.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “So long as you don’t try that quad flip stunt again.” Yuuri watches Viktor’s intentionally melodramatic performance, as his pride and confidence settle in his gut. For once he’ll let himself feel good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned knowing nothing about skating? Because I know nothing about skating. Also I was too lazy to pick a song sorry. Pick any song you want. Will Viktor and Yuuri ever get their shit together? The real questions. Being Phichit is suffering apparently. Kind of like being me--wait what. I'm kidding lmao.
> 
> Anyway, if you felt or thought anything at all while reading this, I'd really appreciate if you commented. You don't have to, like I'm not gonna be one of those authors that demand comments or anything, but comments makes me feel like this is worthwhile, y'know? Thanks!


	7. Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm apologising in advance for the awful visual. You'll know when you get there.

Viktor didn’t know how long they improvised programs for. He didn’t care either. It was just too much fun. Eventually, they stopped because Viktor’s stamina in death still isn’t nearly as amazing as Yuuri’s, so now they’re quietly laying on the grass by the volcano, staring at an artificial pristine blue sky. There’s silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s peaceful. He doesn’t need to speak, just to enjoy their shared presence. He hopes Yuuri feels the same way.

“Viktor.” Yuuri breaks the silence, sitting up in the grass.

“Hmm…?” Viktor responds, glancing sideways at Yuuri.

“Do you ever wonder about the limits of what we can do here?” Yuuri asks, but doesn’t make eye contact, merely stares at the rink.

Viktor sits up and faces Yuuri. He’s not quite sure what Yuuri’s referring to. “Meaning?”

“Like,” Yuuri makes a vague gesture with his hands. “Are there limits to what we can create here? I mean, you managed to instantly recreate your entire music library, and I recreated an exact replica of the beach back home with just a thought. We can make such oddly specific things, I was wondering what else we could do.”

“You know, that didn’t occur to me,” Viktor replies. “I just assumed we didn’t have limits, although that’s unlikely considering the circumstances.” What _were_ the limits? Clearly they could recreate anything they knew that’s inanimate, but could they do more? Could they create life? Well, besides plant life, judging by the endless amount of grass that surrounds them. Sentient life. _No that’s absurd. At best we’d be able to summon the souls of what’s already dead, and even then that’s probably far too much._

He could test that, he supposes, but he doesn’t have anything to test it on. Theoretically, he could try to spawn the bugs that would be here in life, but he doesn’t want to. And he hasn’t lost any pets he’d want to see, or people. Plus, even if he lost a person, he’s not sure it would work. After all, they’re probably in their own personal afterlife.

He and Yuuri are alone here, and honestly, Viktor is content with that.

> < <> > <

Yuuri’s not sure why he brought this up. It just randomly occurred to him that ‘death is magic, but magic has limits, right?’ and now he’s very concerned about it. Concerned? Interested? Sure he’s fixated, but he’s not worried or upset. He’s curious. _Well let’s see what we can do._

 _Clearly, if we wanted, this volcano could start erupting—_ the volcano starts to smoke, and Viktor rapidly glances from it to Yuuri in concern. _No!_ It stops. _That was theoretical—argh I shouldn’t have visualised it._

“Did you want to kill us again, Yuuri?” Viktor grins, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“It was an accident!” Yuuri squawks instinctively. “Besides, I don’t think it’s possible for us to die again.” Probably. At this point he’s not sure about anything related to how being dead works, but he’s going to assume you can’t die twice. That seems like a safe assumption.

Yuuri stands up and analyses their surroundings, deep in thought. _Let’s see, in order, there was an idyllic beach, Hasetsu beach, the idyllic beach with a rink, a restaurant and katsudon, and now a rink by a volcano that can actually erupt. What do they have in common? All these things are--_ “All we’ve created so far are things that are possible in life, even if unlikely, right?”

Viktor nods in agreement and understanding. “Did you want to try to make something that wouldn’t be possible in life?”

“Yeah. Something truly ridiculous. See if we can do the impossible.”

“The impossible, huh?” Viktor acknowledged, standing up and turning to the volcano. He’s gazing intently at the volcano, as if the volcano would provide the inspiration he’s looking for. _Whatever you do, don’t think about it erupting. Please. The system they have here in death is finicky._

“Yuuri,” Viktor utters, and for a second Yuuri is actually afraid the volcano started erupting again and couldn’t be stopped in the moment Yuuri wasn’t paying attention. It’s not. _Why must you always assume the worst at all times?_

“Did you have an idea?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor grins devilishly. _Oh boy._ “How would you feel about more volcanoes?”

_ > < <> > < _

The face Yuuri makes can only be described as: “More volcanoes? Really? What is with you and volcanoes? Do you want us to die twice somehow? Why?” Viktor has to keep himself from laughing. _How does he manage to make such expressive faces?_ Yuuri heaves a sigh. “Alright, what about more volcanoes?”

“What if we had a miniature floating volcano, above the already there volcano?” Viktor posits, but he didn’t have to. The moment he said it, it happened. _It matches the ridiculous visual in my head!_

Yuuri stares at the new, magic floating volcano, completely dumbstruck, then frowns in thought. “Well, I’m glad it worked, although…I wasn’t expecting it to.”

“What were you expecting?” Viktor inquires.

“I thought that we’d be restricted to what was possible in life, considering how death so far greatly resembles it, what with pain and all that.” Suddenly, Yuuri lights up. “This is so much better though. The sky could be pink!” It is. “It looks better blue, undo that.” The sky is normal again. “Lava could be yellow! And cold. Blue and moderately cold. Why not? That way if it erupts, we can’t somehow kill ourselves twice.”

“Yuuri, the volcano isn’t going to erupt. Also I don’t think you want to confirm that either.” Still, Yuuri’s so into it; it’s endearing.

“You’re right; I don’t.” Yuuri agrees. “Viktor, are you attached to the mini volcano?”

“Getting rid of it so soon? You don’t like my creation?” He pouts, but he’s not actually hurt. He’s not even invested in his miniature volcano at all; he cares much more about how excited Yuuri is with their new discovery.

“It’s horrible. We’re getting rid of it.” Yuuri deadpans, but he’s unable to keep from smiling. The mini volcano vanishes.

“You wound me.” Viktor throws his hand to his chest, looking towards Yuuri in the most melodramatic way possible. “How will I ever recover?”

Yuuri laughs, and _fuck he’s beautiful._ “You’ll manage.” _How was I supposed to live around someone this beautiful; it’s overwhelming. I can’t even manage when I’m dead._ “Any other awful ideas to test our limits?”

“Is that a challenge or an insult, Yuuri?” _I would make the worst thing in the world if it made you laugh for even a moment._

> < <> > <

It’s been a little over two weeks since Worlds. Chris should be coming up with new programs for next season. He’s got a pen and paper, and a playlist of possibilities. He’s 25 and still in good condition. He doesn’t have to retire. He can skate, and dominate the ice, and wow the crowds. He should be planning for next season.

But Viktor, his rival competitor and friend, is dead. _He’s dead he’s dead he’s dead!_ So he doesn’t want to skate. He doesn’t want to do anything with skating. What’s the point in skating anymore when he can’t beat the person he’s always wanted to win against? There isn’t one.

And he’s still mourning. His good friend (he doesn’t like the term best friend) killed himself.

He knew, he _knew_ something was wrong. He could tell. There was no shine in Viktor’s eyes when he skated, and his smiles off the ice were forced. He saw that Viktor paid attention to his surroundings less and less. He was less involved. Viktor disappeared deeper and deeper into his public persona—you couldn’t see the real man anymore. Chris _knew._

But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask. At the time Chris had thought that Viktor would talk about it when he was ready. Viktor wasn’t the type to hide things forever, and Chris knew that very well. He didn’t want to make Viktor talk, so he never asked. He didn’t ask, and Viktor drifted further and further away, and now he’s dead.

In the silence of his room, Chris stares emptily at the computer screen pen in hand. _I’m sorry, mon ami. I failed you._ But it’s too late to make it right. There’s nothing he can do to change that.

> < <> > <

They spent forever coming up with ridiculous visuals. Their new landscape, frankly, looks absolutely hideous. _He sure rose to the challenge didn’t he?_ The volcano is tie-dye in blue and black and red, and smooth as glass. The grass is paper, but still behaves like it’s made of plant. There’s a binary sunset that came directly from Star Wars, except the gradient of the sky is mostly green with hints of blue and pink and purple. Not even the rink was safe; the walls of the rink were now made of ice that looked like brick. _Nothing is sacred for you, huh Viktor?_

“Yuuri, Yuuri!” Viktor bounces in place in excitement. “We’ve made something truly awful haven’t we?”

“More like, you made something truly awful,” Yuuri replies sarcastically.

“You were the one who made the grass paper because you thought of origami Yuuri,” Viktor reminds. _Oh right I did do that, didn’t I?_ “Plus there was that thing a while ago where you put a fountain next to the rink that had the blue lava come in from the volcano instead of water, and—”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” _I wanted to forget my own abominations._ “Still it looks like we can make just about anything, so long as we knew it in life, or can imagine it.”

Viktor nods in agreement. “This really is hideous, Yuuri. Completely goes against my sense of aesthetics. Let’s put our landscape back to normal.” The volcano setting went back to the way it was. “Are you satisfied with your experiment?”

“For now,” Yuuri answers. “It’ll work for now. I think I found a possible limit we might have, but we can test that later.”

“Good, because I just spent far too long creating truly horrendous images and I need a break,” Viktor says, lying back down on the grass and staring at the blue sky. “Being that absurd is exhausting.”

Yuuri chuckles at that, sitting near Viktor in the grass. He thinks something in Viktor’s expression changed at that, became softer, but he’s unsure. _He’s so different than what I thought he would be._ He’s not the epitome of grace and class. He’s not the charming playboy of the media. He’s ridiculous and impulsive, creating things on a whim. He’s melodramatic, but genuine, and maybe a little blunt. He’s so _so_ different, but Yuuri thinks that it’s better that way.

> < <> > <

Viktor lies in the grass, grateful for the return of normalcy in their surroundings. _It’s rather warm here; it’s amazing the ice holds up. I guess we could have easily figured out our limits with that, huh._

He glances to the left at Yuuri, about to ask if that occurred to Yuuri but stops. Yuuri looks serene, arms folded over his knees, and a simple, peaceful smile gracing his face. _It’s impossible for you to be anything but beautiful. I don’t—I don’t deserve you._

He doesn’t. Yuuri is smart, and snarky and awkwardly sweet. He’s endearing, and nervous and determined, and so much more than Viktor ever imagined his soulmate would be. And Yuuri deserves to _live._ He deserves to be alive, and happy. He deserves to skate and win, and rejoice, and smile that wonderful smile.

But Viktor killed him. He took Yuuri away from his life—he robbed Yuuri of everything Yuuri deserves. Viktor took Yuuri’s life, his soulmate, and destroyed it before they ever even met. _Whoever decided this was wrong. I could never deserve you._

He exhales, and closes his eyes. _Maybe I should try sleeping, see if that’s possible._ But he knows his thoughts and dreams would just be filled with Yuuri, a mixture of love and guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd apologise for not updating on time, but I don't actually have a schedule. That being said, things have been erratic, and probably will continue to be erratic for the next 3-4 weeks because the semester is ending, and I have a looot of papers. You understand. 
> 
> Anyway, don't y'all just love mood whiplash? I sure do. It makes for some quality content. (I'm sorry Chris. Not really). Anyway, hopefully you enjoyed it!


	8. Part Seven

Yuuri doesn’t know how long he sat like that for, lost in a mix of questions about the afterlife and wondering about Viktor. He does know that when he finally looked Viktor’s way, Viktor was apparently, asleep. _So sleep is possible, huh…? He looks so peaceful. I don’t want to wake him up._

Viktor rolls from one side to the other, facing Yuuri, and for a split second Yuuri panics, because _oh god what if he’s having a nightmare--,_ but Viktor looks just as peaceful as he did before. _It’s amazing what we can do here…. Ironically, death is very lifelike. We have no need for sleep, but we can, if we want. We could probably just—sleep forever._

 _Oh god what if Viktor ends up sleeping forever and he can’t wake up!? What will I do then!? Isn’t that like effectively a coma!? Can you even be comatose in death!? Does it even matter if he gets up, though, I mean, he can sleep forever if he wants to, but_ ** _what if he shouldn’t?!_** _There could be consequences! And I don’t really want to be alone forever I have so many questions!_

Viktor lets out a quiet noise, and Yuuri instinctively turns towards him. _Is he waking up?_ Viktor’s shifted a bit closer, his hand rather close to Yuuri’s sleeve. _No I guess not,_ he thinks and Viktor settles into his new position.

“Yuuri…” Viktor whines. _Sleep talking?_ “You keep muttering to yourself…” Viktor slightly tugs Yuuri’s sleeve.

 _Nope! He’s awake._ Yuuri instantly flushes in embarrassment. _And I’ve been talking out loud this whole time._ “Sorry! I didn’t realise. Did you want to sleep more, or…” Yuuri trails off when Viktor slowly nods. “Okay, do you want a bed?”

Viktor shakes his head, mumbling something about the grass being super comfortable as it is. Or at least, that’s what Yuuri thinks. Viktor’s very incoherent. Yuuri nods in acknowledgement, and moves to shift away to give Viktor more space, but Viktor tightens his hold on Yuuri’s sleeve. _I didn’t notice he was still gripping that._ “Stay.”

He doesn’t think Viktor’s fully awake. He doesn’t think Viktor would ask for that if he was. They might be technically soulmates and tentatively friends, but Yuuri still hasn’t quite accepted either.

But he’ll stay, because Viktor asked, and maybe a little because he wants to.

> < <> > <

Viktor’s first thought, as he stirs slightly, is _I probably slept for days._ He’s slowly waking up, but he’s not ready to open his eyes quite yet. _The grass is really comfortable...and…fluffy?_ He blindly gropes the surface beneath him and yes, it’s fluffy. He cracks one eye open, and sees the pale yellow blanket, as well as finally noticed the pillow his head is on. He blinks slowly, _Yuuri._

Yuuri’s crisscrossed, sitting next to him, intently reading a book with a Japanese title that Viktor can’t translate. He doesn’t seem to have noticed Viktor woke up, turning the page and frowning slightly. Yuuri hasn’t moved. _You actually stayed._ Viktor yawns and stretches sluggishly.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Yuuri closes the book, and turns slightly to face him. “Did you…sleep okay?” There’s an awkward pause, almost as if Yuuri wasn’t sure he was allowed to ask.

Viktor gradually sits up. “I did. Thanks for the blanket and the pillow.”

“Ah, you kept twisting and turning in your sleep so I thought…yeah. You’re welcome.” Yuuri replies, before he turns back to his book.

 _Well,_ Viktor frowns, _that simply won’t do._ He’s not ashamed to admit he’s a selfish man, and right now he wants Yuuri’s attention for himself, even if he might not deserve it. He’s glad Yuuri’s enjoying himself, but Viktor wants to talk to him. He wants to do anything with Yuuri, even if currently he has no idea what. _Think._

The problem with dedicating your life to skating is you don’t have a concept for fun things to do outside it. You don’t even have a great concept for fun skating things either; it’s just practice, practice, _practice,_ and does practice really even count as fun? He doesn’t think so. He doesn’t want to skate either.

He spends far too long staring at the yellow blanket before eventually— _I’ve got it!_ “Hey Yuuri! _Yuuri!_ ”

“…Hm?” A delayed response. Yuuri doesn’t even look up from his book. “Give me a moment. I just want to finish the chapter. I’m almost done.”

Viktor wants Yuuri’s attention now, but he’ll wait. Contrary to Yakov’s belief, he’s not actually a petulant child. Selfish yes, but impatient? No.

So he waits, and works out the minor details of his plan.

> < <> > <

Eventually, Yuuri closes the book. The chapter ends in the middle of a fight, but it’s a book Yuuri’s read before, so it can wait. “Did you want something?” He asks.

Viktor lights up. “I had an idea! For something we could do.” He replied, straightening out the blanket.

For once, the concept of Viktor wanting to do things with Yuuri doesn’t set off the “ _Viktor wants to do things with me!?!?"_ reaction. Instead Yuuri’s first instinct is whether he should worry about the environment they’re in, or maybe just in general, because some of Viktor’s ideas are questionable at best. (He’s never forgetting the all quad flip program. Ever).

His face must have betrayed his thoughts, because Viktor says “It’s a perfectly mundane idea, I promise! I thought, since you so kindly laid out a blanket, that we could have a picnic.”

 _Do people even go on picnics in real life?_ Yuuri was a little convinced that just happened in movies. Still, “Sounds like fun,” Yuuri eventually replies. It does. He’s never been on one before, but it should be fun. Peaceful even.

In a flash there’s a basket, presumably filled with food in the middle of the blanket. Yuuri has to move over a bit because it’s right up against his leg. Viktor plops back down on the blanket and opens it.

Yuuri peers into the basket. “I think you might have overdone it,” he points out. There’s more bread and cheese and some kind of meat that looks like salami in the basket than they’d know what to do with. The organization in the basket honestly seems indicative of someone’s who’s never been on a picnic either.

Viktor waves his hand in dismissal. “It’s not really a big deal. Whatever we don’t eat we can just poof from existence. It’s not like we can waste food, you know?” Viktor frowns, brows furrowed. “This bread needs to be cut,” and magically, the bread is instantly perfectly sliced. “There we go!”

Yuuri takes a piece of bread and cheese, and is about to bite into it, before noticing Viktor’s still staring at the basket in intense contemplation. “Missing something?”

Viktor nods, and then looks up in realization. “Aha!” Now there’s….champagne? And champagne flutes?

“…Alcohol? Really? Is this…normal for a picnic?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor shrugs. “No idea, I just thought it’d be fun. Besides, I’m curious about what you’re like when drunk.”

 _This is a mistake,_ Yuuri thinks, as he pours himself a glass.

> < <> > <

Even weeks later, Viktor’s suicide still has the spotlight in the media. In this world suicide was highly uncommon, as almost everyone’s life was tied to someone else’s. In many places, like Russia, even attempting it is illegal, because your life is not entirely your own.

Yuuko aimlessly scrolls through skating forums. She’s used to talking about skating to help cope, but she can’t entirely escape from her grief. There aren’t many posts about Yuuri on this forum, mostly about Viktor, and for that she’s grateful. But something about Viktor’s suicide that doesn’t sit right with her.

There’s a thread about five days old titled “Viktor’s Soulmate Theory (Conspiracy)” and against all better judgement, Yuuko clicks it open.

_lilacfairy_v82: I’ve been doing some thinking. We all know that Viktor committed suicide a week ago, right? Well, Viktor wasn’t the only one to die that night. That Japanese skater, Katsuki Yuuri, died overnight in his sleep of unexplained causes._

_So I was thinking, what if Viktor did have a soulmate. Katsuki Yuuri. The Katsuki family refuses to go into detail about Yuuri’s death but I’m willing to bet that it’s the same way half the world dies: symptomless and peaceful. And Katsuki wasn’t known to have found his soulmate yet. Well? What do you think?_

_vikkysgurl: that’s just stupid besides that’d make Viktor a killer wouldn’t it? Why even say that._

_sskatingfan78923: yeah, but it could be possible. I mean they’re both skaters so they’d have something in common. Even if it is uncommon for soulmates to be that out of range._

_vn-love990: this is automatically wrong. Viktor aged out of the swap range two years ago with no known soulmate._

_I_love_sk8ing: what if he swapped years ago and they’ve been secretly having an affair!???!?! >?>?!!! _

_vn-love990: do you even read what you type if that was the case Viktor wouldn’t have killed himself._

Yuuko has to stop reading. She knew clicking on this was a bad idea. _Just—forget about it. This can’t be right. Viktor doesn’t have a soulmate._

But they don’t know who killed Yuuri. Yuuri hadn’t swapped with his soulmate yet, and nobody’s come forward to prove otherwise. They have no way to know why Yuuri died. And Viktor— _you’ve spent too much time looking at conspiracies._

She closes out of the window, and looks for something else to think about.

> < <> > <

 _This was a mistake,_ Viktor thinks, as Yuuri struggles to pull his shirt off. “It’s hoottttt….” Yuuri whines. He should have taken the champagne away the moment Yuuri said he was going to test if his alcohol tolerance was higher in death “for science.” Sixteen glasses was far too many. He’s grateful Yuuri didn’t try spawning more champagne for himself when Viktor got rid of it.

Viktor thinks he hears Yuuri whine his name for help. The shirt is halfway over Yuuri’s head, and he’s stuck in it. _Big mistake,_ he thinks, as he grabs Yuuri’s shirt and adjusts it so he’s wearing it properly. He doesn’t think Yuuri will appreciate being shirtless when he sobers up, so Viktor solves the problem by making it colder. “Better?”

Yuuri’s disoriented, and he slowly looks up at Viktor. He’s glowing, with the biggest smile Viktor’s ever seen on anyone. Yuuri nods, “Yep!” he exclaims, far too enthusiastically for someone being asked about the temperature. _At least you’re cute._ Abruptly, he stands up, and Viktor worries he’s about to fall over. Yuuri holds his hand out expectantly. “Dance with me!” He demands.

 _I can’t say no to you,_ Viktor thinks, and accepts Yuuri’s hand. In the process of pulling him up Yuuri almost falls over, but Viktor catches him. Yuuri doesn’t thank him, instead excitedly drags him off the blanket onto the grass.

It’s not that exciting a dance. Just a simple slow dance with no music. Maybe in another world he and Yuuri faced off in a dance battle that ended in a dip, but here it’s something quieter. Yuuri repeatedly attempts to spin Viktor, sometimes less successfully than others, but it’s fun. It’s so much fun, and Yuuri looks so so happy. Like this is the best moment of his life.

“Where were you my entire life Yuuri?” Viktor asks, more to himself than anything.

“Hasetsu. Detroit.” Yuuri answers. “Mostly Hasetsu.” Viktor laughs at that, and Yuuri continues to ramble. “Hasetsu’s nicer too. The hot spring’s greaaattt.”

“Is that so?” Viktor asks, amusement clear in his eyes.

“Absolutely,” Yuuri nods passionately. “I wish we could go! A bath would be niiicceeeee.”

“Maybe later you can recreate them,” Viktor says, but right now he’s perfectly content to keep dancing with Yuuri.

“True!!” Yuuri shouts, and they settle back into comfortable silent dancing. “We’ll go later.”

 _I love you._ It just pops into Viktor’s head at random, and Viktor’s never felt such joy in his life. Not before Yuuri. Yuuri’s bringing back emotions Viktor’s forgotten how to feel. Ironically, Viktor’s never felt more alive.

He’s too lost in his thoughts, his love to realise Yuuri’s staring at him. “Viktor,” Yuuri asks, big brown eyes filled with innocent curiosity.

“Yes, Yuuri?” Viktor is not prepared for what happens next.

“Why did you die, Viktor?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just. Insert maniacal laughter here that's me right now. have fun kids. see you whenever. XD
> 
> Actually here's an update on my life. So idk what the deal is with finals for me but they're between the 10-16th so by then writing should be. more regular probably. I don't like making promises so don't hold me to that.


	9. Part Eight

“Why did you die, Viktor?”

The phrase echoes in Viktor’s mind endlessly. Over and over and over. Constant endless repetition.

 _“Why did you die, Viktor?” “Why did you_ ** _die, Viktor?”_** **_“Why did you die, Viktor?”_**

 _Why did you k i l l m e_ **_V I K T O R ?_ **

**_I’M SORRY_ **

“Viktor?” Yuuri. Innocent, curious Yuuri staring at him with nothing but concern— _I don’t deserve your concern—_

“I’m sorry. Yuuri. I—” Viktor gulps, bracing for the inevitably awful end, “I killed myself. You’re dead because I—” Just then, Yuuri falls forward, collapsing on Viktor. Viktor stumbles but manages to catch Yuuri and keep himself from falling over. _He passed out._

But Viktor doesn’t feel any relief as he summons his dark bedroom and lays Yuuri on the bed, apologising over, and over, and over.

> < <> > <

The rink feels emptier, now that Viktor’s dead. For as long as Mila could remember, Viktor was the first one to arrive, and the last one to leave. Towards the end of his life, however, Viktor would show up later and later, and leave earlier and earlier.

Mila thinks she should have taken it as a sign, but she didn’t really know Viktor at all. They were rinkmates, but they were also strangers. They were friendly, but more like acquaintances. She misses him, of course; the rink lacks something now that he’s gone, but so many more people are taking it worse.

The rink is quieter, now that Viktor’s dead. Georgi, ever overdramatic, for once has little to say. He quietly mopes in the corner, obediently following Yakov’s orders. He’s resigned and unhappy. Mila thinks he’s changing his theme to grief instead of heartbreak. She’s not going to question how he copes.

Yuri…well, he’s still angry, but it lacks something. He’ll snap at everyone, and still doesn’t take her teasing well, but it’s missing some of its bite. He more willingly listens to Yakov’s advice, but he still refuses to let anyone choreograph programs for him.

And Yakov? He’s so tired. Mila can see it in his eyes, his stance, his voice. She can tell he physically drags himself out to the rink each day. Yakov by far is taking it the worst. He doesn’t have the same energy to coach anymore; he just stares at the empty part of the rink,Viktor’s favourite place to be, and sighs.

They’re a family. Yakov the dad, Georgi the melodramatic middle child, Yuri the youngest determined to prove himself, Mila the precocious younger sister, and Viktor the cool, if a little distant, older brother. Their family is broken. She doesn’t think it’ll be the same again.

The rink is lifeless, now that Viktor’s dead.

> < <> > <

Yuuri’s first thought upon waking up is _I want to die._ He then remembers he’s already dead, and thus death can’t save him from this killer headache. _I made a mistake._ Yuuri groans, and curls under the blanket, hiding from the world. He doesn’t have it in him to question how he ended up in a bed, but he’ll take it anyway.

The door to the room opens slightly and light peers in. Yuuri shoves a pillow over his head. _Too soon._ “why,” he moans, muffled into the pillow.

“Sorry!” Viktor almost whispers, shutting the door behind him. “I didn’t…realise you were awake. I just came to check on you, but if you want I can leave.”

Yuuri shifts into a vaguely more upright position. _Mistake._ But he stays like that anyway. “No…no, you can stay.” It’s hard to see in the dark, not to mention Yuuri isn’t wearing his glasses, but Yuuri thinks Viktor is…surprised? _Why is he surprised? Didn’t…didn’t he ask me to stay earlier why would he…nope I am not in the place right now to think about that. I can’t even see._

Viktor slowly moves towards the edge of the bed and takes a seat. “Your glasses are on the nightstand.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Yuuri reaches for the nightstand, fumbling in the darkness a little before eventually finding them. Slowly he slips them back on. _There. Now I can see slightly better._ Viktor looks visibly uncomfortable, like he’s not sure why he’s allowed to be here. _Did something…happen…earlier?_

Yuuri wracks his brain, desperately trying to remember what happened, but it’s an exercise in futilely. _Even in death I’m a black out drunk, huh…_ . _Figures._

Viktor holds out a mug in front of Yuuri, _I didn’t even notice him summon that,_ that smells like coffee. “Drink. It’ll help with the headache,” he says.

 _Oh thank god,_ Yuuri thinks, taking the mug from Viktor’s hand. He takes a sip. “Good to know hangovers in death are just as brutal.” _You’re never drinking again._ Viktor chuckles, but it’s awkward. _Seriously what happened earlier? Did I…do something—I did something, didn’t I._ “Viktor…what did I…do?”

> < <> > <

“You don’t…remember?” Viktor is shocked and surprised. Viktor had prepared himself for a number of things. Maybe Yuuri would wake up and his first reaction to Viktor’s presence would be righteous outrage. Maybe he’d wake up and be cautious around Viktor until he confirmed what he heard, and all hell would break lose. It didn’t matter what happened initially, it all ended with Yuuri cutting off all ties and never speaking to him again.

“Not…really no…” Yuuri responds. He sighs. “When I drink too much, I black out. I remember when we started drinking, and I vaguely remember wanting more for science, and…that’s about it.”

All the weights on Viktor’s soul are lifted, and he internally collapses in relief. It takes everything in him not to literally collapse in relief as well. Eventually, he answers with “I see. No, you didn’t do anything, unless dancing is too much for you.” He winks, and if that isn’t the biggest giveaway he’s acting right now, he doesn’t know what is.

Thankfully, Yuuri doesn’t seem to notice, instead sinking back into the bed, groaning. “Why am I like this? Why did you let me drink that much? Ugghhhh….”

“Sorry. I’ll be quicker to restrict your alcohol consumption from now on,” Viktor promises. _That was the plan from now on anyway._

“Please tell me I didn’t spawn a pole,” Yuuri begs, desperate.

“A…pole?” Now Viktor’s just plain confused.

“Oh thank god.” _???_ “I don’t think I could rest in peace if I started pole dancing,” Yuuri mutters to himself.

“You pole dance? I wish I could have seen—” Viktor starts.

“STOP.” Yuuri demands.

“Right. Hangover. Sorry,” Viktor apologises. _Now I almost wish I didn’t promise to restrict his alcohol consumption._

_“Why did you die, Viktor?”_

_Almost._

Yuuri quietly drinks his coffee, and Viktor still can’t believe his luck. _He doesn’t remember!_ He’s been saved. He still has more time in eternity with Yuuri. For now.

He knows eventually the truth will come out again, and this time, Yuuri will remember it. He knows Yuuri will want absolutely nothing to do with him. And Viktor won’t blame him. Viktor doesn’t want anything to do with himself either.

But he’ll savour what time he has left with Yuuri, right up until the moment Yuuri goes.

> < <> > <

Yuuri’s glad Viktor is closer to normal, his hungover self wouldn’t be able to help with that, but Yuuri can tell something is still off. _He winked. Viktor hasn’t winked since we_ **_met;_ ** _something is weird._ He doesn’t know what it is, and he’s far too out of it to even try to figure it out. _Maybe later, when I’m less out of it._ Assuming he remembers.

(He isn’t going to remember).

 _This coffee is magic,_ he thinks, as he takes another sip. He still feels like garbage, but not quite at the level of begging for a second death. _Was coffee always this effective, or is it also because I’m dead?_ He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care either. He finishes it. “Another,” and in an instant, there is one.

“Yuuri, don’t you think you should eat?” Viktor asks. _No I think I should stay in bed and drink coffee for the rest of eternity._ “As fun as that sounds, you should eat.” _I said that out loud. Whoops._

“That involves getting up. And I don’t feel like. Moving. At all. Ever again,” Yuuri complains.

Viktor tries to hold back his laughter with questionable success. “Yuuri. You don’t have to get up, remember? You can just summon what you want in bed.”

Yuuri flushes red. “Oh.” He forgot. _Let’s just…forget that happened, yeah? Yeah._ A plate containing the world’s greasiest hamburger and fries appears in his lap. “The perks of being dead—not having to move.” Yuuri digs into his grease-fest.

Viktor snickers, and it sounds slightly forced. “You know I expected you’d get something…Japanese.”

Yuuri stops chewing and swallows. “I spent five years in Detroit, and those were the years I started drinking. Greasy American food is what I know best for this,” Yuuri explains. That and he’s not going to even try katsudon again. He’s definitely not in the right place for that.

“That makes sense. Actually you mentioned Detroit earlier, while you were drunk,” Viktor remarks.

“Please tell me I didn’t say anything humiliating. Please.” He’s back to begging again. He hates being a blackout drunk.

“Yuuri, you said nothing that could be held against you. Relax.” Viktor smiles, entirely at ease. “If you said anything incriminating, you’d know by now.” There’s a barely perceptible change that Yuuri can’t quite place in Viktor’s expression. Yuuri knows there’s something wrong, but he won’t ask. If Viktor wants to talk about it, he’ll talk.

Besides Yuuri’s not sure he even wants to know.

> < <> > <

“Good,” Yuuri replies, and Viktor almost wants to ask him what he was worried about saying. But he won’t. Yuuri goes back to digging into his food. Viktor doesn’t think this is the most amazing hangover cure in the world, but he’s not one to judge. The things he’s eaten to deal with a hangover….

Yuuri stops eating, and looks at Viktor. “You keep staring at my food. Did you want some or…cause I’m not sharing; you can get your own.”

Viktor chuckles. “No, no that’s alright. I don’t want any; don’t worry.” He’s really not interested in the pile of grease on Yuuri’s plate. He’s just amazed at how fast Yuuri’s eating it; it’s almost entirely gone.

“Sure hope your soul can’t gain weight, because I might want more,” Yuuri says, mostly to himself.

“You’ll be fine, Yuuri.” Viktor laughs softly. “I imagine that you don’t even digest food in death, considering we have no need to eat.”

“That’s true. Plus it makes more sense than a soul having weight,” Yuuri agrees. The last of his fries are polished off, and the plate vanishes. He yawns. “On second thought, I think…I’m going to go back to bed and sleep off the rest of this headache.” Yuuri curls back into bed

Viktor stands up, and prepares to leave the room. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Stay,” Yuuri requests, looking Viktor straight in the eye. Their eyes are locked for a moment. A moment flashes through Viktor’s mind.

_Viktor tightens his hold on Yuuri’s sleeve. “Stay.”_

Viktor sits back down on the edge of the bed. “Of course, Yuuri.” A tender smile graces his face that he can’t, and won’t, remove. _I’ll stay for as long as you want me._ He would stay with Yuuri forever, if he thought he’d be allowed to.

Yuuri nods, and drifts off to sleep. Viktor will enjoy this quiet moment with Yuuri, and every moment that follows while it lasts. He’ll make sure he’ll never forget. _Forgive me, Yuuri. You’ll know the truth one day, but for now…I just want to have this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did y'all really think I'd hit the climax of the fic this soon? Nah we have a long way to go. Honestly some of you saw through me, but that's okay. Kudos for you. 
> 
> This update came real fast because for once I knew what I wanted to do for it. It's amazing how that works, isn't it?


	10. Part Nine

When Yuuri wakes up again, the pounding in his head is gone. His glasses are crooked on his face; _I should have taken them off. Oh well. Where’s…Viktor?_ He rolls onto his back, _oh there he is._ Viktor’s sitting at the edge of the bed, staring in Yuuri’s general direction, lost in thought.

_“Stay.” Yuuri requests, looking Viktor straight in the eye._

_Did I REALLY do that? Since when was I that confident?_ He’s not sure. Still, Viktor stayed, and Yuuri’s not as surprised by this as he thought he’d be. He’s no longer shocked by any vaguely sweet or friendly gesture from Viktor. He’s accepted that they’re friends and soulmates.

He shakes his head, desperate to keep a blush from creeping onto his face.

…Okay maybe not quite yet that they’re soulmates, but he’s getting there.

Viktor seems to snap out of his trance at Yuuri’s sudden movement. “You’re awake!” Enthusiastic, before seemingly remembering that Yuuri was just hungover, and might not be ready for that level of energy. “Feel better?”

Yuuri nods and straightens out his glasses. “Much.” He’s still slightly out of it, and maybe a little groggy, but the headache is gone, as is his desire to eat nothing but grease.

“That’s good,” Viktor replies, and things fall silent.

Yuuri sits up at the edge of the bed next to Viktor and finally processes his surroundings. A bedroom, plain and minimalistic. Yuuri would have thought this was just a generic bedroom, if not for the wall of books that gave it a little bit of life. He thinks there’s also a case of medals on one of the shelves. “Is this…your room, Viktor?” he asks.

“Yep,” Viktor affirms. “I figured you were going to want a dark place with a bed, so I went with the first place I knew.”

“It’s…not what I expected.” Yuuri doesn’t know what he did expect, just that this wasn’t it. _Supposedly, someone’s room can tell you a lot about the person, but I can’t really get anything from this other than Viktor likes to read._ He thinks he might be missing something.

“Oh? And what did you expect, Yu _u_ ri?” Viktor teases. “Massive amounts of skating equipment everywhere and a huge shrine to my many victories?”

“No!” Yuuri shouts, before taking a deep breath. “I don’t know what I expected. It’s…so normal.” _Empty,_ he doesn’t say. The emptiness sticks to him for reasons he can’t quite place.

> < <> > <

“Well, I am just a man, Yuuri,” Viktor points out. He doesn’t point out just how lifeless his room is. He’s glad Yuuri hasn’t either. “Say, what’s your room like?”

“It’s…boring.” Yuuri doesn’t make eye-contact. _Lies._ “It’s not particularly interesting, I promise.”

“Yuuuurrriiiii, you’re hiding something.” _Is he…embarrassed?_ “I’d like to see it. Please?” He feels like he knows everything and nothing about Yuuri, and he desperately wants to change that.

He thinks for a split second, that Yuuri makes a face between _must we?_ and pre-emptive regret, but he didn’t quite catch that. “Alright, if you really want, but it’s not that interesting.”

The room transforms into one more traditionally Japanese, and smaller. _So this is what it’s like._ It’s decidedly slightly messier than how Viktor keeps his room, not from a lack of organization so much as Yuuri has more stuff in his room. The walls are what stick out, mostly because they’re overwhelmingly blank. _There’s nothing embarrassing here. I wonder why he was so nervous._ The walls hint at an answer that Viktor can’t quite figure out. _Maybe it’s missing whatever Yuuri finds embarrassing. Unfair, I showed you my room in it’s full, depressing glory,_ but he’s not actually upset. He’s mostly amused.

“See, I told you it’s not particularly interesting,” Yuuri says, even if he keeps nervously glancing around the room. _Anxious? Or just worried he missed something?_ Viktor has no idea. It doesn’t matter.

“I think it’s automatically interesting because it’s yours. Besides, I think you can learn some things about a person by seeing their room.” It’s probably why it’s bugging Viktor so much that there’s something missing, and he doesn’t know what it is. But it’s okay. He’s got eternity to unlock Yuuri’s secrets.

( _No he doesn’t_ , his brain unhelpfully reminds him, but Viktor chooses to ignore that).

Yuuri flops into his bed and stares pointedly at the ceiling. Viktor can’t tell if it’s from boredom or embarrassment, but it doesn’t matter. It’s then Viktor decides to get up from his own perch at the end of what’s now Yuuri’s bed to look around the room better. He’s tempted to examine the walls to see if he could find evidence of what Yuuri might be trying to hide, but he’s not confident in his detective skills. Plus, Yuuri might panic, so he decides against it.

So he wanders over to the desk instead. At first glance, it’s not so different from most desks: a laptop, a book or two, a picture frame— _a picture frame!_

> < <> > <

Yuuri thinks the walls look weird without the posters, but there was absolutely no way he was letting Viktor know about them. He’d rather die twice, somehow. He sits back up, just to notice Viktor about to pick up the picture frame. _Crap, wasn’t that a picture of Viktor?! Quick, change it into something else. What do normal people keep pictures of? Family? Pets—Vicchan!_

Viktor blinks, confused for a moment, and then shrugs it off. Yuuri imagines he’s unsure if the picture looks different somehow, but it doesn’t matter. It’s fine as long as Viktor doesn’t ask questions. “You had a poodle, Yuuri?” Viktor asks, examining the picture in his hands.

“Ah, yeah. I did.” Yuuri replies.

“He’s cute, what’s his name?” Viktor turns to face Yuuri, but doesn’t put the picture down. He thinks that maybe Viktor is feeling nostalgic about Makkachin, but he won’t bring it up.

“Vik—” _crap I can’t just tell him I named my dog after him, crap crap crap—“_ Vicchan.” _Please don’t somehow put it together, please please please._

Thankfully, Viktor doesn’t appear to notice his slip up, and instead just responds with “Fitting, it’s an adorable name.” There’s something a little sad about Viktor’s expression. He thinks that maybe Viktor is feeling nostalgic about Makkachin, but he won’t bring it up. _Vicchan…._ Thankfully, Viktor interrupts Yuuri’s thoughts before he could get too lost in grief. “You might already know this, but I have—had a poodle myself.”

“Yeah, I did.” _I knew as soon as you got him. It’s why I got one myself_ not that Yuuri would dare say that out loud. Too embarrassing. _Will I ever be able to tell Viktor these things?_ He has doubts, but then again, he has all of eternity to change his mind.

Suddenly, Viktor pulls out his phone. _?_ Yuuri tilts his head slightly. _What is he doing…?_ Suddenly, Viktor’s phone is shoved in his face. Yuuri backs up a bit, blinking away the surprise. _Oh, it’s Makkachin._ “So you’re aware that Makkachin is the cutest dog in the world then,” Viktor says, with a grin a mixture of cheeky and proud.

Yuuri frowns slightly. Nobody’s allowed to insinuate his dog is anything less than the most adorable, not even his soulmate Viktor Nikiforov. “I don’t know about that,” he replies, opening the album of Vicchan pictures on his phone and shoving it in Viktor’s face. _Payback._ “I think Vicchan is cuter.”

After an exaggerated look of faux-offense, Viktor takes the phone into his hands and eagerly scrolls through all the pictures, ooh-ing and aww-ing. Yuuri can’t help but do the same with Viktor’s phone. It’s then Yuuri realises this was probably Viktor’s intent: to fawn over their dogs together. He’s totally fine with that.

> < <> > <

Strangely enough, Minako’s ballet studio is much more lively in the recent months than it has been in years. With Yuuri’s death, there was an influx in people, his fans, who wanted to see his hometown, and meet the people he trained under. As a result she’s gained a couple of new students from this.

Axel, Lutz, and Loop are sitting by the barre, getting into a heated argument over which skater is going to take over now that Viktor’s dead. The Nishigori triplets, partially to ease their own boredom, partially to be like Yuuri who they looked up to, insisted on ballet lessons. They insist on staying longer than what’s good for them, so Minako doesn’t make them leave, but doesn’t teach them anymore either. She’ll send them home soon enough if Yuuko doesn’t come to drag them home for dinner.

Occasionally, a kid from Fukuoka, Minami Kenjirou, self proclaimed #1 Yuuri fan (although the girls fight him for it), stops by for a weekend insistent to learn ballet from the woman who taught his idol. He’s a vibrant endless stream of energy, and although sometimes exhausting, Minako endlessly appreciates the determination he brings. She thinks he’ll go far one day.

He reminds her of Yuuri. They all remind her of Yuuri. Nobody can ever fill the void that Yuuri left behind, but the studio feels a little less empty. There won’t be Yuuri anymore, but there are still all the people he influenced to spread his legacy. And for that, she’s grateful. She can’t ask for more than that.

She keeps a picture of Yuuri, no more than eight, next to her Benois de la Dance. He’s struggling to keep his position in the photo, but the effort and willpower embodied in his pose is what to her, Yuuri is best remembered for.

It’s a shame Yuuri would never know Minako’s true crowning achievement.

> < <> > <

Viktor thinks they’re maybe about halfway through the thousands of pictures of Makkachin before he notices Yuuri’s gotten quieter. At first he thought maybe Yuuri just got really into it, as Yuuri’s the type to say very little the more attention he’s paying. But there wasn’t many of the nods, or quiet hums of interest that Viktor would have expected.

Then the sniffling started, and Viktor knew something was wrong in that moment. “Yuuri?” he asks, tentatively. Yuuri isn’t making eye-contact, just staring down at his own phone in his lap. The phone case is covered in a poodle pattern. “Yuuri, what’s wrong?” he tries again.

Finally registering that someone is speaking to him, Yuuri desperately rubs at his face, as if he could pretend everything’s fine. “No I just—we keep talking about our dogs, and Vicchan and—” he hiccups. “I haven’t seen Vicchan in years. I left for school in Detroit, and then at Sochi Vicchan—” he can’t say anything more deteriorating into a mess of tears.

 _Ah. Vicchan…died._ Viktor doesn’t know what to do in this situation. He’s never been good at comforting people, and Yuuri’s crying. It’s breaking his heart. _Wait, Vicchan…is dead?_

He has an idea, unconsciously standing up and pacing. He’s not sure if it will work, because he’s still not sure of all their rules in limits in the afterlife, but he thinks it’s worth a shot. Slowly, he takes the photo of Vicchan, staring at it intently. _What do I know about you?_ He recalls all the details and stories Yuuri told him about Vicchan: generally lazy, but insisted on following Yuuri everywhere. Always tried to eat whatever he could get his little paws on. Slept in Yuuri’s bed, got overly excited when Yuuri video called home, loved Yuuri more than anything else in the world.

Viktor knows he doesn’t really know Vicchan, he’s just counting on the idea that dogs have souls, and what Yuuri told him will be enough. _Please._

A bark. Yuuri looks up confused. Sitting a few feet away is a miniature poodle, excitedly wagging his tail. The shock is clearly displayed on his face, as he drops to the floor. “ “Vi—Vicchan?” Yuuri asks, tentatively. Another bark, before Vicchan runs and jumps into Yuuri’s arms, licking Yuuri’s face. “But, how? I didn’t—Viktor?”

Viktor smiles tenderly watching their reunion. “I thought there shouldn’t be anything keeping you apart anymore, so it was worth a shot.” He tries not to think about Makkachin.

A huge teary-eyed smile breaks across Yuuri’s face. “Thank you,” he whispers softly, cuddling with his long lost dog. Just for that, this was more than worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you thought Vicchan was not gonna be in this fic, so did I! It's weird how things develop, isn't it?
> 
> I'm sorry for the wait. I was busy with finals, and then I hit a wall and just. Writing's been hard guys. I'm just glad I was able to write this at all. Three days ago I genuinely thought this fic might die, but here we are. I'm glad. Thanks for sticking with this at all guys.


	11. Part Ten

Yuuri can’t believe this is happening. It didn’t even occur to him that he could reunite with Vicchan like this, now that they’re both dead, yet Vicchan is in his arms, licking away the tears on his cheeks and it’s like they were never parted.  _ He’s here, he’s really— _ It’s like a little bit of home actually returned to him; the one thing he couldn’t have in life.

And it’s thanks to Viktor. Viktor standing across the room with a tender but slightly nostalgic expression on his face. In this moment, Yuuri is glad they’re soulmates. That Viktor Nikiforov, eccentric but sweet, is in his life, or rather his death.

He thinks, just a little, he’s accepted they’re soulmates. He’s amazed that he did.

Abruptly, Vicchan jumped out of Yuuri’s arms and marched around in a circle, before staring expectantly at Yuuri. _Ah. He wants to go somewhere._ Just as abruptly, his room transformed into Hasetsu beach. Unlike the last time, (which feels like forever ago in a timeless place) he wasn’t overwhelmed at the sight of home, instead comfortable with the familiarity that it brings. With Vicchan, running around on the sand, home doesn’t feel as far away as it did.

> < <> > <

Viktor’s new surroundings look familiar for reasons he can’t instantaneously place. He doesn’t think he’s ever been here when he was alive and— _ oh wait, didn’t Yuuri make this beach before? _

As if aware Viktor was trying to puzzle out their new location, Yuuri speaks “It’s Hasetsu’s. Vicchan loves it here.”  _ Ah. Yuuri’s home.  _ It makes sense.

The beach is quiet. Viktor thinks it’s a combination of the lack of life outside the three of them, and maybe just how the beach is. He’s used to seagulls.  _ Maybe… _ The familiar caw of seagulls sounds.  _ I guess this is proof that all animals have souls, because I doubt I created life. Especially in death. That’d be one hell of a paradox.  _ It lessens the silence into something more natural, and Viktor himself is reminded of his home.

_ I want to share these things with Yuuri.  _ Up until now he’s never thought about his attachments in life, but Yuuri’s shown him a place that’s important to him, and Viktor wants to return the favour. “Yuuri, do you mind if I change the scenery a little?”

Yuuri glances at him, surprised and confused by the request, and shakes his head. The beach turns into the one from St. Petersburg. For once he feels at home.

> < <> > <

It took Yuuri a second to realize the scenery had shifted, but it did. Vicchan stops for a brief moment, and decides he doesn’t really care because there’s still sand. He can’t help but wonder why Viktor made such a minor yet distinct change.

“The beach reminded me of the one at home,” Viktor answers his unasked question. “The seagulls were a constant in the mornings at home. I didn’t spend much time here when I was alive, but…” he trails off. Yuuri thinks he can put together what Viktor wants to say. That maybe Viktor misses home a little. That maybe Viktor wants to share a little piece of home with Yuuri.

Vicchan’s lazing in the sand under the fake sun, and Viktor’s gaze is to the horizon. Nostalgia is clear across his face, and it’s then Yuuri wonders when things changed. When Viktor changed from an unreachable perfect entity to just a man who he knows, and maybe understands.

It’s almost paradoxical what Yuuri knows. He knows Viktor is eccentric and occasionally childish and brilliant and graceful, but he knows nothing about the man’s life. That Viktor’s imagination should never be tested, but not about his friends or home. It feels like a backwards introduction: first came the core personality, and then comes the casual information.

He wants to know more about Viktor’s life.

> < <> > <

Viktor almost wishes he came here just a little more often in life. When he was younger,  _ much  _ younger, he used to run here to escape the noise and the chaos of “home”. But that was before Yakov took him in, and after that…he had no reason to return. There was nothing to escape from.

It’s personal, and it’s associated with bad memories but maybe with Yuuri that could change. Yuuri, sitting next to his lazy dog, staring at the not actual horizon…yeah. It would have changed. Together they would have made new memories, mostly positive, and they’d be happy. And alive.

The things that they could have had in life. But wait,  _ what’s stopping that?  _ There didn’t appear to be anything stopping Viktor from recreating things from life here. Why couldn’t they have even a little of that? (He wants just a little of that before Yuuri inevitably leaves).

They could have a taste of life in death. It’d be bittersweet, and maybe a little eerie, but he could show Yuuri the things that mattered to him, the places he wanted to go, and Yuuri could do the same. There is nothing stopping him.

“Hey Yuuri!”

“Hm?” Yuuri glances back up at him.

“Do you want to tour the world?” A grin.  _ This was going to be great. _

> < <> > <

Yuuri’s not sure how it happened but they ended up at a Swiss café, sitting outside in pleasant spring weather. It’s a little eerie, because this quaint street in reality would show signs of people and life, but none of that was present here. Amazingly, it’s not as jarring as it first was.

After a little experimenting, they learned they could only visit places they knew about, which makes sense given that the rules of the afterlife seem to be governed by knowledge and your imagination. It makes sense you can’t reconstruct a real place you’ve never been.

“Chris and I went here a few times, when I went to visit him.” Viktor explains, hints of nostalgia in his eyes. “It wasn’t very often. Chris’ idea of a good time usually consisted of hitting up the Zurich nightlife to dance and drink the night away.” He laughs, and Yuuri can’t help noticing the slight musicality of it.

Viktor gets lost in regaling a story of the time they both went club hopping in a contest to see how fast they could get themselves kicked out. And Yuuri’s paying attention, he really is! He just also didn’t realise how easy it was to lose yourself in the enthusiastic and fond lilt of Viktor’s voice. 

> < <> > <

“I think the record was the time we broke some kind of dress code violation immediately upon entering. We got in, Chris, fumbling around with his pockets abruptly goes ‘Wait… AHA!’, and then far too cohesively for someone rather drunk pulls out these gaudy chains and puts them on us. Except, he does this  _ right in front of the door,  _ where the bouncer we just walked right past is. The guy immediately sees this, of course, and clearly exhausted from dealing with idiots all night, just pushes us back outside. So I think we were in there for a grand total of 20 seconds? Thirty, tops? I didn’t even process what had happened until we were stranded outside. I think Chris had to explain what had happened.” Viktor narrates, amazed he can even recall this much.

Yuuri, who up until this point was nodding along, never taking his eyes off him, occasionally quietly giggling, bursts into laughter. “How much did you  _ drink? _ ”

“Decidedly way too much. Plus the killer headache to end all headaches—or wait was that the time Chris and I decided to only drink the fruitiest things they had to offer and severely miscalculated how much alcohol we actually drank?” Viktor wonders.

“I never imagined the life of Viktor Nikiforov was so wild.” Yuuri quips. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Viktor responds, as his memories with Chris unrelentingly flood his mind. 

> < <> > <

Yuuri truly doesn’t know, because some of the stories Viktor tells can rival the ridiculous crap his dad would do when drunk, and Viktor wasn’t even necessarily drunk in these stories.  _ God if I was still 15 and I heard these I’d consider them slander.  _

Viktor’s very animated when he tells stories. Yuuri’s not sure if he only just noticed, or maybe he already knew this, but Viktor constantly gestures with his hands. As he’s telling the story about the time before Skate America they accidentally crashed a renaissance fair, Yuuri’s surprised Viktor hasn’t leapt from his seat to reenact the archery shot he fundamentally missed.  _ So there are things he’s bad at.  _ “So no bar darts games for you, huh?”

Viktor pouts, having accidentally revealed his weakness, before brushing it off with a “It’s not like I need hand eye coordination for skating!” 

“Sure, Viktor. Whatever you say.” Yuuri teases. Viktor grumbles, but he’s not actually put off, because he resumes his storytelling just as animatedly as before. And Yuuri forgets their serene surroundings, only focused on Viktor, one hand waving wildly in the air. Yuuri barely notices the unexplained urge to grab the other. 

> < <> > <

Viktor thinks he’s spent far too much time reminiscing about the shenanigans he and Chris got up to. Partially because Yuuri seems slightly zoned out, and partially because there’s a painful twist in his gut that he doesn’t want to deal with anymore. ( _ Fuck,  _ he misses his best friend even if Chris would hate being referred to as such).

“Say, Yuuri.” This seems to break Yuuri out of his minor daze. “You don’t remember this but when you were drunk—” Yuuri winces “you mentioned a hot spring in Hasetsu.” Instant, palpable relief. “Could you take me there?”

Yuuri nods, and the scene changes to an outdoor hot spring. Vicchan, recognising his surroundings, scurries off presumably into the rest of the building Yuuri recreated to avoid the heat.  “My family runs this onsen—oh, uh, a hot spring inn. The whole town used to be filled with them, but the rest went under. Ours is the only one left.” Viktor doesn’t miss the traces of pride and sadness laced in his speech.

He’s not going to think about how he’ll never meet Yuuri’s family. How he’ll never meet the people who raised Yuuri, or the people who he grew up with. He’s not going to think about everything he’s permanently missed. He’s  _ not. _

Instead, he thinks, as he slowly pulls off his shirt, that he’s going to take a nice, long bath. 

> < <> > <

Yuuri doesn’t even get the chance to take in the sight of home because Viktor’s taking off his shirt, and  _ oh my god Viktor is taking off his shirt.  _ He can’t help but pray that the heat of the room sufficiently disguises the cause of his fully flushed face.  _ Aren’t we soulmates? Does it really matter?  _ Then go Viktor’s pants, and  _ yes it matters my lifelong idol is stripping before my eyes like in my wildest teenage fantasies, whatever you do Yuuri don’t ogle him, okay? Just don’t ogle him, yes, he’s the single hottest man in existence but— _

“Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to join me?” Viktor settles himself into the bath, a playful grin splayed across his face.  _ SHIT!  _ If he wasn’t completely red in the face before he sure is now.

Eventually, Yuuri settles on joining him. He doesn’t do the slow stripping routine ( _ was that intentional? Or is he always like that? Or did I just see that in slow motion for some reason and it was actually just normal stripping—oKAY STOP),  _ instead just vanishing his clothes away in a last second science experiment before entering.  _ Let’s just... Try not to fixate on the sex god sitting right by you, okay? _

> < <> > <

Viktor’s not going to pretend he isn’t slightly disappointed in the anticlimactic way Yuuri’s clothes vanished, but it’s fine. He’s not in a place where he can ask more from Yuuri anyway. And honestly, what he did see was in no way a disappointment.

The ensuing silence is comfortable, but it doesn’t last, as he abruptly asks “Well? How is it?”

“In a word, divine! I don’t think I’ve experienced anything quite like this!” To be honest, Viktor doesn’t think he’s ever felt as clean or at peace in his entire life, and he’s pretty sure souls are incapable of being dirty.  _ Then again maybe it’s washing away my sins. You never know.  _ (it can’t be. His mistakes are far too great). 

“I’m glad. My family isn’t here but they’d be glad to hear it. They work hard.”  Yuuri confides gently.

Viktor wants to know more about Yuuri’s family, about Yuuri, and his life at home. “Did you help them run the onsen?”

Yuuri nods, “I did, although I usually ended up leaving my sister Mari to do all the work.” And as Yuuri with quiet affection tells Viktor about his family, and friends close enough to  _ be  _ family, Viktor thinks he could have considered them as family himself. If only he lived long enough to meet them.

> < <> > <

“I’ve always felt guilty for it. My family was always so supportive of my love for skating, so they didn’t give me that much work to do around the onsen to begin with, yet there were still times I asked Mari to cover for me.” Yuuri stares at the water, wearing a sorry smile. “I got so focused on skating and becoming the best skater I could be I didn’t realise my mistakes until I was in Detroit. And even then I was there for five years and never visited home.”

He’s not sure why he’s telling Viktor all of this. Maybe it’s because he’s here in a perfect replica of the home that he avoided taking care of. “They didn’t blame me for any of this. In fact, when I got home they were just happy to see me again. They didn’t stop me from running off to the rink that night--nothing. I told myself while I was home I’d make it up to them and do more, but...well look at how that turned out.” A self-depreciating laugh. 

Viktor doesn’t say anything, instead quietly placing his hand over where Yuuri’s rests in the water. Something stirs in Yuuri’s chest at the gesture, and Yuuri can’t quite place what it is. But it’s pleasant, so he doesn’t let go of the feeling.

> < <> > <

Hearing Yuuri talk about his regrets hurt like a cramp that slowly takes over your entire body. So Viktor, a tactile person by nature, did the only thing he could think of. Viktor’s always been scared to touch Yuuri; he doesn’t think he deserves to. Yuuri’s hand moves, and for a split second Viktor thinks he’s made a mistake, but Yuuri just shifts its position. Viktor, unconsciously, grips it. He thinks he feels Yuuri relax into it. 

He’s just glad Yuuri’s letting him have this, content to relish in the feeling in silence. 

“Mari’s obsessed with boybands,” Yuuri abruptly pipes up. 

“Is she?” It’s not what Viktor expected, given that Yuuri’s past descriptions of his sister seemed very cool, not a fangirl.

“Yeah, I could usually get her to do more than she bargained for by getting her some merchandise for them. Especially her favourite, an idol named Takao.” Yuuri’s brow furrows in realization. “Come to think of it, he looks a lot like Yuri Plisetsky. I think Phichit pointed it out once when he saw me order something for her birthday, but it only just hit me.”

“Phichit’s your rinkmate, right?” Viktor asks for verification. 

Yuuri nods, and loses himself in stories about life in Detroit. An unwanted nostalgia for home starts growing within Viktor’s soul. 

> < <> > <

Yuuri ends up talking about his rinkmates past and present for so long, it results in an abrupt scenery change to Yuuri’s home rink in Detroit. (Vicchan appears to be sleeping on one of the bleachers). Some stories needed a visual. “You see that beam over there? It’s not that high up, but it’s weirdly placed?”

Viktor nods, raptly paying attention, quickly glancing at the beam before focusing back on Yuuri.

“Well, Phichit was convinced he could walk all the way across it and back  _ in skates _ , and he was determined to prove it, even if the beam doesn’t look that well supported, or very wide.” Yuuri elaborates.

“Oh dear. This isn’t going to end well, is it?” Viktor laughs.

“Actually it went surprisingly well. He succeeded, but while going ‘See? I told you I could do it’ he lost his balance and fell. Amazingly, he only really bruised himself, but when Celestino found out, he almost lost it.”

While he finished, Viktor walked over to the beam in skates. “I bet I could do that backwards.”

_ Of course he does,  _ but he’s not annoyed. Viktor’s fixation on doing the ridiculous or the impossible is endearing. “I’d like to see you try.”

The way Viktor lights up at the challenge causes Yuuri’s heart to flutter. 

> < <> > <

Viktor is successful, although he almost falls trying to turn around to go back the other way. The constant storytelling reminds him of his home rink, and without even realizing it, the rink transforms into the one from home.

Yuuri notices the change, but doesn’t seem to mind. “Your home rink, right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Viktor confirms, but he’s lost in memories of  _ his  _ home. The rink. Of Mila sliding up beside Yuri to tease him relentlessly, lifting him over her head when he crosses a line, and lightening the tension in a room. Of Georgi crying about  _ this  _ girl, or  _ that  _ girl, waxing poetically about his every love interest, his heart hanging so loosely from his sleeve it’s a miracle it doesn’t fall off. Of Yuri constantly dishing it out but not nearly as capable of taking it, making rough attempts at cheering you up, so you could never forget that for all his rage he loves you. Of Yakov constantly critical of Viktor’s every mistake, and easily irritated by Viktor’s flighty and whimsical nature, but still took him into his home when Viktor had nowhere else he could go.

The rink is practically empty, and they’re  _ not  _ here. His family is not here. He will not see them again. He won’t see them, or Chris or Lilia—he’ll never meet Yuuri’s family and friends; he will never  _ live  _ again.

For the first time, since his suicide, he wishes he never died.

> < <> > <

“Viktor?” Yuuri calls out. Viktor doesn’t seem to hear at first, still staring at the rink melancholically, before finally registering someone spoke to him. 

“Ah, sorry, I just didn’t think I’d see this place ever again,” Viktor confesses. There’s an unspoken thought that follows it, but Yuuri doesn’t understand what it is, so they sit in more silence. Eventually, Viktor points over towards the far corner of the rink. “That was my favourite spot.”

“You had a favourite spot?” Yuuri asks.

“Mhmm” Viktor nods. “Whenever I successfully landed a new jump, it was usually over there, so my younger self got very attached to it. I didn’t really let it go as I grew older. Georgi and Yuri used to make fun of me for it, but I didn’t mind.” Viktor laughs, fond, but lonely, before going quiet again.

_ He misses home--life.  _ Yuuri doesn’t want Viktor to lock it back up, so he gently prompts Viktor with a “Were you close to them?”

Viktor laughs, a lot more genuine, responding with “Yeah, we were like a family,” going in depth about his relationship with his coach and rinkmates, and Yuuri feels himself go at ease. This is how it should be: Viktor reminiscing fondly like he did with Chris, a nostalgic but joyous heart shaped smile taking over his face. The light in Viktor’s sky blue eyes, that Yuuri can’t look away from, should never fade. 

There’s a powerful thumping in his chest when Viktor grabs him by the hand and takes him on a tour of the rink.

> < <> > <

For a while, Viktor could lose himself in the happy memories, content to introduce Yuuri to the place he called home, as if he never left it. But he did. Permanently. The complete lack of life in the rink outside of the two of them was a constant reminder, and it gnawed at his heart.

It’s getting harder to ignore his revelation. He doesn’t just regret committing suicide, he wishes he could go  _ back.  _ He wants to go back. He doesn’t just want to tell Yuuri about all the people in his life, he wants Yuuri to  _ meet  _ them. Just like he wants to meet everyone important to Yuuri. 

He doesn’t get to know if Yuuri’s friends and family would love him, because he’s dead. He’ll never see how Yuuri interacts with Yuri, or Yakov, or Chris, or anyone. He will never have a  _ life  _ with Yuuri, and a life with Yuuri is all he wants. 

The more he reminisces the harder it is is to keep himself from spilling the truth. From telling it all. That he killed himself, he killed  _ Yuuri,  _ and it’s the worst mistake he’s ever made and he’d do anything to fix it but he  _ can’t.  _ He can’t fix it.

He can’t tell Yuuri. Not if he wants Yuuri to stay. He knows that. But he doesn’t think he can keep it a secret from him anymore either. 

> < <> > <

Viktor’s overwhelmed again. The eager storytelling has quieted, and the relentless movement has slowed. There’s conflict within his eyes, and his smile looks like it’s more for the press, and Yuuri  _ knows.  _ He knows something is wrong. That this is not his Viktor. 

It’s tearing Yuuri apart. Viktor should be lighting up at the prospect of another objectively ridiculous idea. He should be glowing at his successes and excited to try new things. He should always be smiling that heart shaped smile.

Viktor Nikiforov, who thinks an all quad flip program is a great idea, who has no concept of tact, who reverts to his public persona when nervous or upset, and constantly,  _ constantly  _ teases. Viktor Nikiforov, who’ll hang on to your every word, who’ll reunite you with your dead dog to relieve your pain, who’s endlessly enthusiastic in whatever he does, and always wants to be with you.

Beautiful, childish, wonderful Viktor deserves to be eternally happy.

Right now that’s all that Yuuri wants. It’s the only thing he wants, and it almost scares him because he’s never felt this strongly about anyone before. Nobody except Viktor.

_ Oh.  _ Yuuri’s eyes widen.  _ I love him. _

It’s not at all surprising, this realization. They’re soulmates,  _ of course  _ Yuuri loves him. It’s just now, he finally understands it. And Viktor, shockingly transparent Viktor ( _ how did I not notice earlier?)  _ loves him back.  _ But how to tell him? _

“Yuuri? Are you alright?”  _ Ah. Viktor noticed I spaced out. _

Yuuri nods. “Yeah I’m fine I just—” it’s then Yuuri has an idea, slipping his hand from Viktor’s grasp. “Viktor. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

> < <> > <

Viktor’s so stunned by Yuuri’s sudden declaration, that he doesn’t immediately notice Yuuri’s given himself skates. “Yuuri?” he calls out, confused as Yuuri backs away. He dazedly lingers where Yuuri placed his glasses on the rink wall.

“Before we died, I was working on something.” Yuuri starts, still hovering by that part of the wall. “At the time, it was to revitalize my love for skating, but now…” He pauses, before meeting Viktor’s eyes with a determined gaze. “Watch me.” As if Viktor could do anything less.

Yuuri skates to the centre of the rink, and a familiar melody starts.

_ “Sento una voce che piange lontano…” _

It’s his. It’s his free skate. His final desperate call for help as he plunged into despair. A program crafted in his depression, by his depression, about his depression. When Viktor skated it, it always felt empty. The crowds loved it, but Viktor knew it was hollow and desperate.

But Yuuri, Yuuri who moves like he himself is music, he skates it and it’s everything it’s supposed to be. A tale of longing and fear and love.  _ Oh. That’s what you’re trying to tell me. _

_ You love me, you love me, you love me. _

And Viktor could cry, because while he wants Yuuri’s love, he doesn’t deserve it. He robbed Yuuri and himself, of life, and Yuuri doesn’t know that.  _ You would not love me if you knew. I’ve made a terrible mistake. _

Yuuri strikes the final pose, and Viktor can’t bring himself to applaud. He only watches in shock and awe, joy and sorrow. Viktor is about to burst.   _ I can’t keep this secret. Yuuri deserves to know. He deserves to know why he’s dead. _

He doesn’t notice Yuuri grab his glasses, and step off the ice. “Viktor?” Yuuri loses the skates and runs over in concern.  _ My face must say it all.  _ “Was I…too presumptuous? I’m not that great with words, so I thought if I skated, I could get it across, but I was definitely assuming too much, this was a mistake—”

“Yuuri,” Viktor cuts him off and grabs the panicking Yuuri by the shoulders before flinching away like he touched hot iron. “I understood, and you’re not presumptuous.” He exhales, and steels himself.

“There’s something that you should know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So kids having fun? (The only visual you need is me cackling maniacally okay like that's it. That is me right now). 
> 
> It's been a while, hasn't it? Writing this chapter has been. a bitch. First I didn't know what to do for it, then I knew what to do for it but writing it was a struggle, then I wrote it but it was rushed to all hell and I hated it, so I expanded on it, and viola! Here we are. I went from hating this chapter to loving it a whole lot so yay. I love me some payoff. And you love a new chapter too, even if you hate me right now. That's fine. I'd be upset too. 
> 
> Still, thank you for your patience! Hopefully the next chapter isn't as much of a struggle. Dunno how long it's gonna be. This chapter was like. twice the length of every other chapter. Who knoowwss. We're reaching end game folks. Buckle up.


	12. Part Eleven

_Something I…should know?_ “Vik..tor?” This wasn’t what Yuuri was expecting. Worst case, Yuuri thought Viktor would reject him, because they’re already an odd soulmates case as it is, but Viktor…looks anguished.

He’s pacing around in front of Yuuri, frantically gesturing with his hands. Anxiety, frustration, and _despair_ in his eyes, and Yuuri doesn’t know what to do but wait. All he can do is wait, and panic internally because _what does he need to know? What could Viktor possibly have to tell me after I just—_

“Okay.” Viktor breathes. He’s stopped pacing but he’s definitely standing further away than before, and Yuuri doesn’t know why. “Yuuri, you have no idea why you’re dead, right?” _Why I’m dead? What does that have to do with anything, why are you—_ “It’s my fault. It’s my fault you’re dead.”

Yuuri finds that hard to believe. “I mean, you’re right, I don’t but—” he doesn’t get to ask why Viktor brings that up, or to express his doubts.

“You don’t understand!” Viktor yells, and he sounds so pained, _why is he so pained—_ “The reason we’re dead, the reason we’ve met here, it’s entirely _my_ fault. I made a mistake.”

“Viktor I don’t understand—”

“I killed myself, Yuuri.”

_…what?_

The silence is deafening. He thinks Viktor is saying something, or struggling to say something but Yuuri can’t hear anything over the chaos in his own mind.

 _Viktor killed himself Viktor killed himself_ **_Viktor killed himself Viktor Killed Himself ViktorKilledHimself_ ** **_ViktorKilledhimselfVIKTORKILLEDHIMSELF_ **

**_VIKTOR. KILLED. ME._ **

“Yuuri…?” Viktor calls out, voice barely above a whisper. He reaches out tentatively—

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Viktor recoils, but he doesn’t look surprised. Viktor’s beautiful blue eyes are drowning in resignation and despair, _you’re in despair? You killed me! You don’t have any right to be more upset than me at all. You don’t have the right to be upset!_

Yuuri doesn’t notice he’s backing away until Viktor calls out his name again. Doesn’t matter. “I loved you—I think my entire life I loved you, and you took it away from me!”

 _I need to get away from Viktor, I need to be by myself,_ _I need to leave!_

And suddenly, he’s standing in a foggy expanse, and Viktor’s nowhere to be seen.

> < <> > <

_“I loved you—I think my entire life I loved you, and you took my life away from me!”_

And then Yuuri vanished, and Viktor collapses to his knees in tears, his surroundings reverting to the cloudy void.

He knew this would happen. He knew there’s no way Yuuri could ever find out the truth without hating him forever, _he knew._ But he couldn’t lie to Yuuri. He couldn’t keep his guilt a secret, and he couldn’t contain his regrets. It wasn’t _fair._ It wouldn’t be fair for Viktor to accept Yuuri’s love, when Viktor killed him before earning it. He doesn’t deserve Yuuri. He never did.

 _Maybe this is why we didn’t switch,_ he thinks, as he shakes and sobs. _We didn’t switch because this entire setup was a mistake. The powers that determine soulmates made a critical error in assigning Yuuri’s so he ended up being stuck with me._

They’re soulmates, and Yuuri’s _gone,_ and Viktor never deserved him from the start. He’s alone. He’s alone in a desolate foggy abyss. (It doesn’t have to be foggy. Viktor doesn’t think he deserves even an imitation of life. Not after he stole it from himself).

He’s…alone? Viktor blinks exhausted red rimmed eyes, finally looking up from the ground. Where did…Yuuri go? It’s not that it surprises him that Yuuri would leave him, but Yuuri’s entirely _gone._ Vicchan doesn’t appear to be here, either, so Viktor assumes he’s with Yuuri, but that doesn’t explain where he _went_. They were alone together in death at the start, with no signs of anyone else anywhere, and now Yuuri’s disappeared somewhere else.

For a moment Viktor considers looking for him, as nothing is more concerning that someone vanishing right before your eyes, but he doesn’t. Even if he finds Yuuri, Yuuri doesn’t want to see him, and he doesn’t deserve to see Yuuri. Wherever Yuuri and Vicchan may be, he doesn’t have the right to know.

Viktor sighs, shuffling to pull his knees towards his chest and buries his face in darkness. He’s alone, more alone than he’s ever been his entire life, and he completely deserves it.

> < <> > <

At first, Yuuri thinks he’s forcibly reset, given the complete whiteness of his surroundings, but that wouldn’t explain the lack of Viktor or Vicchan— _Vicchan._ Yuuri looks around in a panic, only to find Vicchan right next to him, staring at his surroundings with curious confusion.

_Where did I…go?_

Suddenly, he notices movement in the distance. _Viktor?_ He takes a few steps closer to the silhouette and, no, no that’s not Viktor. For starters, it’s a woman, and her long wavy brown hair is nothing like Viktor’s shining silver. _Another person…?_

But as Yuuri pays closer attention he notices it’s not just this one woman, there are several people milling about. _There are…other people with us?_ Some are congregated in groups, others are on their own. Beyond the white clouds he just emerged from are a mishmash of various different settings: a neighbourhood, Cinderella’s Castle from Disney World, a pristine beach, the list goes on. A couple off to the left disappears, leaving the group they were apart of, and Yuuri understands. _Oh. This is like a general hub for all the dead._

It makes sense. He knew that he and Viktor weren’t the only people who died, so clearly they must be somewhere. And that’s here, assuming they aren’t in their own personalized afterlife. _It makes sense. Even the dead have friends and family they’d like to see outside their soulmate. Having somewhere they could all meet is reasonable._

Still, it’s a little overwhelming, seeing all these people. He was used to it just being him and Viktor. Vicchan also is overwhelmed by all the people, running left and right and everywhere, unable to decide where to go, because _there’s just so many people._ Sometimes someone stops to pet him, and he’ll bark happily. One person, after petting Vicchan, stops to ask, “How did you bring your dog here?”

Yuuri wasn’t entirely sure how it works, but he took a guess. “I think if you want them to be with you, and they’re dead, you just think of them in the same way you’d bring anything else here.”

The stranger nods. “Thanks,” they say, before going back to where they were before.

There’s still an anger and hurt boiling and brewing in his gut. It twists and churns and steams, but Yuuri’s away from Viktor now. He’s here, and so is an entire world full of people, and maybe here he’ll be able to cool down to think.

> < <> > <

It’s dark. It’s dark, and time passes so slowly. Viktor knows death is timeless, but if time could somehow move slower, it would be. It’s moving so.. so… slow…ly. He didn’t care about a concept of time before. It didn’t matter while Yuuri was here, but he’s gone, and now there’s absolutely nothing except self-made darkness and a sluggishly crawling infinity.

_Yuuri._

It’s all he can think about. _Yuuri._ _Yuuri_ _._ **_Yuuri._ ** In varying shades of desperation, self-degradation and despair. But it doesn’t matter how miserable and alone he is. He did this to himself.

_If anything, I deserve worse._

> < <> > <

It’s amazing how much bigger a place can feel with the abundance of people. Yuuri’s been wandering around forever and there’s constantly more of this eclectic mess. The white expanse stretched on forever with random places interspersed within it, and a constantly changing stream of people milling about. Yuuri almost can’t believe how disorganized and _large_ it is, but it makes sense. There are so many different people in the world, and this is the world’s largest and most chaotic group of people: everyone who has ever died. Well, not everyone. He’s sure some people are in their personalized afterlives, like Viktor is.

 _Viktor._ It still hurts. It’s like a fairly recent knife wound: you’ve bandaged it up well enough, but it still hurts like hell, and the bleeding might have slowed, but it sure hasn’t stopped. He feels…betrayed. Like the whole premise of their relationship was a lie. Viktor was keeping this from him the whole time. Yuuri’s dead, and it’s Viktor’s fault. The whole time he thought maybe some accident happened, and he wouldn’t know because he was nowhere nearby and asleep. He didn’t think Viktor would consciously choose _death._ To kill his soulmate.

…Now that he thinks about it, that alone doesn’t make sense. Yuuri stops walking through the park he finds himself in and sits on a bench. Aren’t there laws against suicide attempts exactly for this reason? Wouldn’t he know the consequences of failure? Maybe he wouldn’t care, considering the reason people usually kill themselves, but…

He thinks he needs to do some investigating. But how? He’s not…he’s not ready to face Viktor again. Even if he doesn’t understand, the wound is still far too fresh. So he needs to find another way.

“No, Lucy that’s not how you solve that problem!” Yuuri looks in the direction of the shout, and finds a kid by himself, maybe 14, watching something on his tablet in the grass. It doesn’t really catch his interest much, he’s assuming the kid’s just yelling about the show he’s watching. but the kid groans. “Argh, where’s Mom when you need her??”

Now _that_ doesn’t make sense. Curiosity overtook him, and Yuuri walked over to where the kid was on the grass. “No, sis, that’s not—at least get Mom since I can’t help you anymore.” Yuuri didn’t get to see what he was looking at, as the kid vanished in frustration, but…

 _Was he…watching the living?_ Yuuri thinks he might have an idea.

> < <> > <

  
Viktor’s trying not to think about Yuuri. He’s desperately trying not to, because thoughts about Yuuri are just further punishment. It’s not that he doesn’t deserve the punishment, but that as of right now he’s physically out of tears. He can’t cry anymore. He desperately wishes he could.

But his thoughts about Yuuri won’t leave. Bright Yuuri. Funny Yuuri. Brilliant Yuuri. Sweet and awkward and endearing—

And hurt. And permanently, profoundly hurt. Yuuri, a light brighter than the sun, is currently drowning in darkness and pain and despair, and it’s all his fault.

He deserves even less than nothing.

> < <> > <

Yuuri spawns his laptop, and plops on the grass. Vicchan curls up next to him. He wants….to see his family? His friends? Phichit and Yuuko and Mari and and— _no._ No he’s not ready to do that. He can’t. He’s still—he still hasn’t gotten over his own loss.

No, he’s here to investigate. Figure out why Viktor died, so if anything…he needs media coverage. _But how can I get media coverage of what I wasn’t alive to see?_ He’s not sure, but if the kid that was here earlier could see his family, then maybe Yuuri could watch someone who could provide the answers. _But who…I’ve got it!_

In an instance his laptop screen is filled with an image of Morooka Hisashi, in a poorly lit office, reading something on his laptop. The walls are littered with newspapers, with string seemingly connected random articles together. _Is he…playing detective? For what? He’s a sports commentator!_

But then he catches one of the headlines: “Figure Skater Katsuki Yuuri Dies In His Sleep”, and Yuuri understands.

Morooka rapidly scrolls through whatever he’s reading, with a frown. Yuuri, curious about what it is, and what answers it may provide, squints to try to read it, but he can’t. _If I could just zoom in on that—_ and suddenly it was.

On the screen is an article about Viktor’s suicide, and in the tabs Yuuri can see articles of a similar nature, about either him or Viktor. Yuuri skims through the article on the screen: “Viktor Nikiforov Dies a Criminal.” He’s almost taken aback by how…scathing it is. There’s an endless amount of judgemental statements about the end of Viktor’s life, about how selfish he was to kill himself. There is no empathy for Viktor. A little while earlier, Yuuri would have agreed wholeheartedly.

Morooka closes the tab switching to the next one. The next article is much more forgiving. It doesn’t accuse him of crime, but mourns the state Viktor had to be in to commit suicide. “It’s a shame we live in a world where brilliant performers like Viktor Nikiforov can’t get the help they need,” and while Yuuri agrees, he can’t quite accept that Viktor’s escape came at the cost of his life.

He’s not quite ready to accept pity for Viktor either. Especially since Yuuri’s dead because of his choices.

> < <> > <

It’s still so dark, and Viktor’s joints are sore from not having moved in ages. He’s forgotten what anything looked like outside of the self-created darkness of his legs. He doesn’t deserve to remember it. It doesn’t matter how much pain he’s in, or how red his eyes are, and how blotchy his face is, because Yuuri has it so much worse.

It doesn’t matter how he feels. He killed Yuuri. Yuuri who doesn’t get to live and it’s his fault. Yuuri who’s dead and who knows that his failure of a soulmate is responsible. Yuuri deserved so much better than him.

Even though he’s alone and he deserves it, he can’t help but ask why fate decided to pair him with Yuuri to begin with? Viktor never deserved Yuuri. Not when he was alive.

> < <> > <

Yuuri and Morooka went through article after article until finally stumbling across this one. It could barely be called an article, but then again, what do you expect from Buzzfeed? “Viktor Nikiforov had a Soulmate?” The title screams conspiracy capitalizing on loss, but Yuuri has to read to continue. It starts with general statements about Viktor’s suicide, and what his loss means to the figure skating community, when suddenly:

 _“But another Figure Skater died that night, Yuuri Katsuki. Could these deaths be related?”_ and Yuuri stops reading in his tracks. _Did he…know? About me? Did he know and not care—how are they reaching this conclusion—_ he halts his own panicked thoughts and keeps reading.

_“That very night, Japanese Men’s Skater Yuuri Katsuki was found dead in his sleep. Is it possible they could have been soulmates? They certainly have enough in common for it, and Katsuki is known to have said on record that Nikiforov was his inspiration. Maybe they were fated to be!_

_Viktor Nikiforov has stated multiple times he doesn’t know who his soulmate is, and given the fact that at 27 he was out of swapping range seems to indicate that he probably didn’t. But who’s to say he just didn’t know about it? Could they have been soulmates and never have known?”_

Besides the bile building in his gut from disgust, Yuuri feels a picture being put together in his head. _The swap range…of course…How did I forget? Viktor probably didn’t think he had a soulmate so he…_ It makes sense. Why Viktor would kill himself without worrying about the consequences makes perfect sense if he didn’t think there would be any.

But even with all that being said Yuuri…doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get why Viktor would kill himself to begin with. The articles Morooka keeps open, or pinned to his wall, briefly mention that Viktor was probably suffering from depression. There’s even a couple of statements from Yakov further suggesting the idea, but it’s not satisfying. It’s not the answer he needs.

He needs…he needs to hear it from Viktor, even though he doesn’t want to see him again. He really doesn’t. Viktor—Viktor killed himself, _killed Yuuri._ How can he go back to confront him and find out why? Why does it even matter? it’s too late?!

But he knows that if he ever wants to understand, if he ever wants to find peace, he has to go back. He needs to hear it from Viktor. Why Viktor killed himself. And even…and even if he can’t forgive Viktor, even if Viktor ended up killing himself just to see what would happen—at least he would know. If for any reason, for the truth.

> < <> > <

Selfishly, Viktor wishes eternity could pass faster. Maybe he could sleep forever—no wait that’s what death was supposed to be. Besides he doesn’t deserve to sleep forever. He doesn’t deserve rest.

All of a sudden he hears a noise, and the sound of tiny feet frantically running around something paws at his leg. _Makkachin—no it’s too small. V-Vicchan…?_ He looks up and there’s a miniature poodle, completely oblivious to all Viktor’s misery and further away—

“Yuuri…?” Viktor asks, trembling, unable to believe the sight before his eyes. _Is it really—but how--?_

“Viktor.” Yuuri says, resolutely. Determined, but Viktor notices the way he slightly quivers. _Yuuri…_ ”We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! I left you hanging last time for much longer than I originally expected. I'm sorry about that. Wasn't my intention. But as of tomorrow I'm out of class, and my A key is working again, and all that jazz. 
> 
> I've also decided that even if everyone else forgets Morooka I won't. Also he's a good excuse to talk about the media. Yes he is. Also he's my friend. Also as the only Morooka fan, I'm here to tell you it's canon now he has a celebrity crush on Yuuri. Canon. 
> 
> Anyway the suffering has happened, at least in part. There isn't much left to go! I hope you'll stick around for it. Thank you for waiting all this time, and if you feel anything at all, please comment. It means a lot.


	13. Part Twelve

“Yuuri…?” Viktor calls out, clearly barely keeping himself together. Yuuri didn’t think it was possible for someone’s eyes to be so red. It tugs at a part of his heart. It hurts that’s not something he ever wanted to see it’s not--

“Viktor,”  _ Breathe.  _ A shudder.  _ B r e a t h e.  _ Inhale. “We need to talk.” Yuuri’s voice is iron, piercing through the silence and the nothing that surrounds them.

Viktor closes his eyes and exhales, before standing up. “We do.” Another deep breath. They make eye contact and although Viktor looks calm and collected, his voice even, he’s too dishevelled for it to be convincing. “Where should I begin?” His lip quirks up into something Yuuri assumes is supposed to be a slight smile, but it’s too self-deprecating it’s not convincing.

“You can start with why.” Yuuri’s response is curt. He’s almost surprised with himself at how cutting he sounds.  _ He looks so brok—you’re angry. Furious. He doesn’t deserve your pity right now.  _ The sight before him makes it a little hard to remember that.

“Very well,” Viktor sighs, still forcing the pitiful non-smile. Yuuri almost doesn’t want to look.

> < <> > <

The girls spend all their free time either at Minako’s ballet studio or the rink. There’s a void that needs to be filled in Yuuri’s absence and they took that role on themselves, but they don’t do it in the same ways.

Axel spends the most time at the rink. Eventually she’ll be able to do the jump she was named after, but for now she practices basic steps and spins. When she succeeds she thinks Yuuri would be proud of her.

Conversely, Lutz spends most of her time at the studio. The barre captures her attention more than the rink, and that’s not something she even thought she’d think. But it’s peaceful, and she understands why Yuuri sought after this peace so much.

Loop, if anything, is indecisive. She can’t quite pick, but…. The other day she saw a record breaking skate in women’s juniors. Based on the stories mom tells her, she thinks she understands how Yuuri felt seeing Viktor that first time.

They know they can’t quite fill the void in the world Yuuri left behind, but through him they’ve found a place of their own.

> < <> > <

“In simple terms, I was depressed.” Viktor starts. It feels unreal to finally get the truth off his chest, even if it’s far too late. “I’m not sure when exactly it began. Maybe it was a recurring constant from the beginning, which is why…that’s where I’ll start.” Yuuri nods, and it’s harsh to the point where Viktor almost thinks he might be trying too hard.  _ Don’t be ridiculous. _

“I was raised to win. Not in the sense that I was born to win but that the expectation of winning was forced on me. My parents weren’t content with their own success, or each other, or themselves, so I had to win constantly.” Yuuri is silently analysing Viktor’s words.

“I wasn’t…born a living legend. I’m not even a prodigy. The media spent a lot of time glorifying my achievements when I was young, but I spent all my time at the rink to get it that way. Days. Nights. I wasn’t born the winner my parents demanded I be, so I did everything I could to  _ be  _ that winner. And that dedication to winning, to the ice, in order to be worth something is the foundation that lead us here.”

> < <> > <

Yuri’s running through his programs again, working out the kinks.  _ No, I should move the quad salchow later… _ he thinks to himself, starting the program over again with the new change.

The programs Yuri has for his senior debut aren’t exactly what he had planned, but they’ll have to make do. You can’t have a dead man choreograph your programs, but Viktor, to his surprise, didn’t leave him empty handed.

_ “There’s drafts for the programs I’d have used next year beneath this. Yura can have them.” _

A quad Salchow.  _ Perfect. _

They weren’t perfect, and they still need a little work to make them more…Yuri’s. Viktor Nikiforov and Yuri Plisetsky are two different people, and Yuri doesn’t want to debut as Viktor 2.0. He won’t. His senior debut has to declare his name loudly to the world. Yuri Plisetsky: Ice Tiger of Russia.

_ Stupid Viktor. I’m going to perform this program better than you ever could have.  _ But even as loudly as Yuri plans to declare his name to the world, he still leaves an undercurrent of Viktor. They won’t be allowed to forget Viktor either.

> < <> > <

If Yuuri were to describe himself right now it’d be confused, vaguely unimpressed, and slightly heartbroken though he refuses to acknowledge it. Viktor seems to have picked up on it, because he continues with, “It’s not that I never loved skating myself! I did. As much as skating was pushed on me it was also an escape I chose for myself. I never wanted to be anywhere else but the ice. I loved it.” The smile on Viktor’s face is tender, but it’s mismatched with the sadness in his eyes.

There’s a moment of silence as Viktor pauses to get the words he needs together. Yuuri wants to rush him, he needs answers  _ now,  _ but waits, taking in the information he was given.  _ He…loved it. Past tense. So that means— _

“The ice was basically all I had.” The tender look on Viktor’s face is gone. “Even recently, with my five year winning streak, that was because of my dedication to the ice. I had long since escaped my parents, my coach took me in, but that just further pushed me onto the ice. All there was was skating. My family, my friends…it all tied back to that. To the ice.”

> < <> > <

The onsen is a little more lively than it used to be. All of Hasetsu is. It keeps Mari busier than she’s been in a while. Initially she associated it with Yuuri’s diehard fans (that Minami kid is very insistent in knowing everything about her little brother), but even now Hasetsu is more alive than before. She thinks maybe a little bit of Yuuri’s soul stayed behind to revitalise the town.

Mari slips into Yuuri’s room with a duster. Her parents still can’t open the door to it, but they’d be pleased to know it’s untouched, all the posters of Viktor exactly as Yuuri left them. She keeps it clean, not because she naively thinks he’ll somehow come home, but for if her parents ever summon the strength to enter.

She picks up the framed poster of Viktor. One day they’ll sell everything in this room, but for now it stays. Mari does not love Viktor. If she could, she’d sell all of it now and never see any of it again, but Yuuri did. And Yuuri’s love for Viktor is one of the many things that have stayed with them, and she’s not ready to let that little bit of him go yet.

Her little brother will never come back, but she’ll treasure what he left behind until they meet again.

> < <> > <

“It’s not just my fame, but my relationships, my skillset, every aspect of my life and who I am…it’s the ice. Viktor Nikiforov: the ice skating living legend.”  _ That’s all. Even you must have thought that at one point.  _ “And at first, like I said, it was all great! I loved the ice. I wanted to win, and keep winning. I liked having the ice define my worth because otherwise…there was nothing.”

“But my love for skating…wasn’t enough. I was and maybe still am dependant on my skating ability to define my value. I had to keep winning because otherwise I was nothing…but there was no joy in it anymore. I don’t lose anymore. There’s no thrill to the competition. And with all the time I spent skating...I didn’t have much of a life outside it. I didn’t want to skate anymore, but I had to, because…that’s who I am. That’s what the world expects of me. My life was skating. The few close relationships I had were due to the ice as well; coach, rinkmates, rival, so if I quit…I thought they’d collapse. I had nothing outside the ice. I couldn’t retire without losing everything, and even if I switched to coaching I’d still be chained to the ice.”

There’s a slight change in Yuuri’s expression, but Viktor doesn’t know what it means.

> < <> > <

Yakov’s still not used to having to walk Makkachin himself, but since Makkachin is less despondent, and Vitya isn’t here, he has to. But it’s enjoyable, excluding the occasional reporters who hound him about Vitya.

Nothing is the same without Vitya, and Yakov has accepted this, but not all changes are bad. He’s forced both Georgi and Yuri into seeing a therapist. They both handle their emotions in questionable ways, and Yakov’s not going to let anything like what happened to Vitya happen again on his watch. Never again.

It still…hurts. There’s a constant ache that follows him wherever he goes. He almost quit coaching because the rink brought nothing but pain, but he didn’t. And it’s been worth it. Vitya is dead, but not gone, inspiring skaters new and old to beat him. To surpass him. Yakov sees him, not in their talent, but in their determination and dedication. Vitya lives on in spirit at the rink, even when the world moves past him, and that life makes coaching more than worth it.

There’s still guilt that won’t quite ease, and Yakov will never fully escape from the sorrow, but there’s enough positive change to keep going. 

> < <> > <

“The way I saw it...there were two options: stop skating and lose everything, or keep skating even if it’s making me miserable. But...I was 27. I couldn’t keep skating forever. I couldn’t bear the idea of having nothing, but I also...couldn’t keep living the life I had now, if you could even call it that. Stammi Vicino was as much a cry for help as it was for the soulmate I didn’t think I had. I...lost hope entirely. By Sochi, I was already considering killing myself, and it just spiraled until I had a plan to die after World’s. So I did.”

There’s a silence, and Yuuri thinks he understands just a little. No, more than a little. He knows depression when he hears it. He understands, but...it’s not quite enough. There’s so much pain, and Yuuri will never get to see home, his family, his friends-- he’ll never live his life again and he doesn’t think Viktor realizes that.

“But, Yuuri…” Viktor starts, apparently unfinished, and even if Yuuri got the answers he wanted, he’ll stick around to hear him out.

> < <> > <

Phichit is back in Thailand, and he dragged Celestino with him. There’s nothing keeping him in Detroit with Yuuri gone, and he dearly misses home. His  _ The King and the Skater  _ programs are coming together excellently. He’s ready to take the world by storm.

It still hurts that Yuuri can’t be around to see it. More than anything he wanted to share these programs with his best friend. He wanted to celebrate his achievements with Yuuri, but Yuuri is gone, and that’s a hole that will never be filled. 

They weren’t soulmates, not romantically at least, but Phichit is sure more than anything that they were meant to be friends. Platonic soulmates. Is that a thing? It is now. Still occasionally there’s fleeting thoughts of what could have been but wasn’t, but Yuuri’s probably with his  undeserving  soulmate and Phichit is still alive. And he’s okay with that. He’ll always miss Yuuri, but Yuuri would have wanted him to move on. Yuuri would want Phichit to be the best he could be, so he will. 

He wonders who his soulmate is. There’s a tingle spreading throughout his body.  _ I think I’m about to find out.  _

> < <> > <

“But Yuuri--” Viktor starts, and he doesn’t know what’s come over him. He told Yuuri why he killed himself, what more is there to say? But he keeps going. “I know nothing I can say or do will ever fix this. And I know I don’t deserve to be so selfish as to keep you here to listen to me ramble, but I--” he pauses, to collect himself. to contain the desperation from leaking into his voice--he doesn’t deserve to ask Yuuri to stay. He shouldn’t even say what he’s going to right now, but he has to. 

“If I knew about you…” deep breath, “I never would have done it.” He doesn’t even bother checking for Yuuri’s reaction, he can’t afford to find out, and just keeps going. “Not because I wouldn’t want the blood on my hands, but because...if I ever met you when I was alive, I never would want to die.”

Yuuri gasps, shock clearly drawn across his face. Viktor’s sure it’s not what Yuuri was expecting. Maybe Yuuri was expecting desperate pleas for forgiveness, but all Viktor wants to do is tell Yuuri the truth before Yuuri walks away from him. 

> < <> > <

Chris is still not used to being considered the one to beat. This isn’t how he wanted to become the top skater, the de facto best. But he is, and even though it’s emptier than how he dreamed it would be, it’s still kind of fun. In some ways the competition feels more lively than it has in years. Viktor felt unsurpassable, and he knows some of the younger skaters felt like it was just a contest for second. But it’s not anymore. He thinks Viktor would have liked it better this way, but Viktor isn’t around anymore to confirm it.

Chris almost retired. Almost. Sure it’s not the way he wanted to win, but he’d like to go out as a winner just once. And the atmosphere of the competition just urges him on. He won’t be seeing Viktor at the competitions, and that will always hurt. Standing on the podium will feel wrong...but he wants to win. And so would Viktor.  _ Besides, I can always break your records, no? It’s the least I can do. _

He drops the bouquet on the grave, and walks back towards the car. 

> < <> > <

“I met you, and I realized just how much I wanted from life. All that I could have, and all that I’ll forever miss out on because I chose to die. That my life wasn’t entirely centered around skating and that it never had to be.”

Yuuri almost feels his temper flare back up, but Viktor still isn’t done. 

“You showed me what hope was. I had forgotten everything about life and love until you.” There’s a broken smile on Viktor’s face. “If we were still alive when I met you, knowing all that you’ve done for me here when it’s too late...I’d never have killed myself to begin with. You’ve done so much for me and I preemptively repaid you with your own death. I don’t deserve any sympathy or kindness from you. I don’t deserve anything from you--I don’t deserve you. I don’t even know why I have this need to keep talking.”

It’s taking all that’s in Yuuri to not completely explode in a rage. This is  _ not  _ helping anything. He doesn’t---he doesn’t care!! It doesn’t matter!!! How Viktor feels and what he would have done...it doesn’t matter!  _ None of this matters!!!  _ ..right?

But something weighs on him he can’t quite pin, and he waits for Viktor to finish.

> < <> > <

Minami from Fukuoka came to Yuuko’s rink again today. It’s refreshing to see someone so passionate about skating every once and awhile. His determination and skating style reminds her of Yuuri. A lot at the rink reminds her of Yuuri.

There’s the occasional stab of pain when she gets too caught up in memories of their childhood, fixating too long on a pair of skates or a move or the ice, but it’s more bearable. Time eases pain whether you want it to or not. 

She doesn’t spend much time on skating forums anymore. Not because she doesn’t still love the sport, but because she’s tired of all the conspiracies and the articles. It’s been months but the world is still unrelenting in it’s worthless nonsense. She doesn’t need that kind of stuff. Nobody’s opinion of Yuuri should matter outside of the people who actually knew him. 

Minami’s practicing that triple axel again. This time he lands it. “Wow! Amazing Minami-kun!” she cheers. He does an enthusiastic little bow in response, and it reminds her of a much younger Yuuri. She can’t help but smile. 

> < <> > <

“I’m...very selfish Yuuri. I couldn’t see anything outside my own pain, and for that you had to pay the price. You don’t get to compete or go home or live anymore. There’s nothing I can say or do that will fix that. I could spend all of eternity apologizing, even if I don’t have the words to explain just how sorry I am, but it wouldn’t fix this. No explanation of why, or what I would have done, or anything will ever be enough to atone for what I did, but I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to suffer because of my selfishness.”

And that’s ultimately the truth of this situation. Nothing that Viktor can say will ever fix this, and it’s something he’s painfully aware of. No matter how much regret or remorse he feels—he could grovel for the rest of time, it will never be enough.

The silence is thick and palpable.  _ I’ve been talking for so long….  _ All he can do is wait until Yuuri vanishes again, when he realizes Viktor is finished talking.

“It’s an unfair system, isn’t it?” Yuuri asks, and Viktor can’t believe he’s hearing anything at all.

> < <> > <

The rink is strangely lively, which Mila only finds odd given the circumstances. Yuri lashes out less, Georgi is less dramatic, and Yakov’s coaching style is considerably less gruff, but…there’s an energy here. It’s an energy she never thought would come back with Viktor gone.

She didn’t know Viktor, and he’s gone and it’s readily apparent in many obvious ways, but his presence is still felt.

Sure Yuri snaps less, but when he does it doesn’t feel like him going through the motions. It has the same energy it used to have from before, its bite. He’s not quite as easy to tease, but when she can it’s so worth it.

It’s not that Georgi lost his flare for drama, but it flares up in less obsessive ways. She’s hard pressed to hear him talk about “being a wicked witch who’ll put Anya to sleep,” but if she dares ask he’ll wax poetic about the latest love of his life.

And Yakov might spend much less time yelling about your mistakes, but there’s a zeal in his actions. His tactics didn’t change as much as their presentation, but there’s passion even without the attitude. She can tell he cares again.

Their skating family is changed, now that Viktor’s gone, but they’re still here and living, and that’s wonderful.

> < <> > <

“Don’t get me wrong,” Yuuri begins. “It’s not that I’m completely okay with what happened. I’m not.” He’s not sure he’ll ever be, even with eternity on his side. Things aren’t okay. He’s  _ dead,  _ and the man before him is responsible for that, whether he meant to or not. Everything he’s lost…it aches and burns, and Viktor was right. He can’t fix it with an explanation, hypotheticals, or an apology.  _ But… _

Viktor waits for him to continue, the surprise faded from his face. “I’m not okay with my death. And you should have told me sooner.” Viktor quietly nods in agreement. “There’s so much pain that I doubt you can even begin to understand.” Yuuri takes a deep breath. “But that all being said…I understand. And…to some extent I believe you, when you say you wouldn’t if you’d have known.”

The disbelief and shock and confusion on Viktor’s face is so mixed and intense you’d need new words for it. “I can’t say…that I forgive you. Not yet. . But…I want to, so…I’m staying.” Deep down, Yuuri wants to. He wants things to work, to be okay. And maybe it’s just because they’re soulmates, maybe it’s because even if his heart’s still wounded Yuuri still loves him, and maybe he should be angry for the rest of his life and leave and never return, and maybe he shouldn’t want this, he does.

The smallest amount of hurt fades, and Yuuri knows this is the right choice.

> < <> > <

Minako watches skating less. It’s not because she’s lost interest, in fact she wants to see Christophe Giacometti live at least once, but because the venue she usually watches it in is the Katsukis’, and she’s not sure they’re ready for that yet. Maybe Mari is. They talk a lot. Minako spent more time with Yuuri when they were younger, but she’s still rather close to Mari. She thinks Mari confides in her a lot more lately because she doesn’t want to burden her parents, and that’s something Minako understands.

The crowd in her studio is different than it used to be. She doesn’t understand where Minami gets his relentless energy, nor how the triplets can seemingly bicker about anything for people so in sync, but it’s just the change she needs. She can’t keep clinging to the idea of what Yuuri could have been.

Next to her picture of Yuuri, there’s a picture of her four new students. They’re not struggling to do ballet, but arguing about who is the best skater, but she has just as high hopes for them too.

> < <> > <

“Yuu…ri?”  _ Is this real? Is this actually what I’m hearing— _ Yuuri wants to  _ stay.  _ He doesn’t know what to do with all the joy and the confusion welling up within him. “…why? After everything I’ve done--”

“Yeah. I know. Maybe it doesn’t make sense but…that’s what I want.” Yuuri smiles, slight and soft and a tad broken, and even as small and sad as it is, it’s just as beautiful as Viktor remembers. “I think, maybe, we should start over.”

Before Viktor can say anything, Yuuri flickers out of existence.  _ Where---? _

“…Vik…tor?” Viktor whips around, to find Yuuri standing behind him, seemingly bewildered.  _ Why—oh. _

Without even thinking. “Sorry…I was lost in thought. Yuuri Katsuki, right? Pleasure to meet you”

“I…yeah. Wait…you know who I am?” Yuuri doesn’t quite deliver it the same way, but Viktor can’t keep himself from smiling.

“…of course I know who you are.” How ever could he not? Vicchan yips, desperate for attention, and paws at Viktor’s leg. Everything feels like it’s brighter. The slightest hint of hope.

Things aren’t fixed. Viktor knows that. There’s still so much to deal with, as many emotions and issues as there are white clouds in this void, but…it’s a start. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you best believe Phichit is swapping with Seung Gil.
> 
> Ahaha, anyway that, my friends, is actually the finale. The end. Can you believe it? Well no technically there's an epilogue thing coming up at some point soon (I hope) but this is it. This is how it ends. I promised something bittersweet and _boy did I deliver._ It's good. It's a good time. We have some cheesy book ends type shit...it's great.
> 
> Anyway Katsuki Yuuri is a better person than literally anyone else ever apparently and holy shit. That's what I learned from this all. Yuuri is better than all of us and Viktor needs to tell people things before they enter extreme circumstances. True story. 
> 
> Thank you all so very much for reading this. It means a lot to me. This is the first fic I've ever finished, and while there's some flaws, I'm very proud of it as a whole. I can't thank you enough, especially if you left comments. Really. Y'all kept me going. I don't know what I'd do without you. Seriously, thank you. 
> 
> Epilogue will come whenever, as well as a list of ideas I might do next help me pick. lmao.


	14. Part Thirteen+

Yuuri won’t pretend it isn’t awkward, even now.  They agreed to start over, and start over, and start over they did, but something is still…off. Even with all the time that’s passed in this timeless void, there’s an unspoken barrier in the way.

It’s especially noticeable in times of silence, like this one. They’re frequent, and long, and there’s something Yuuri feels he should be doing as he stares into this artificial sunset on this artificial idyllic beach, but he’s not. He’s not. He’s really not. Together they’re doing nothing.

He wonders if Viktor also notices it as the ongoing silence continues permeating the air. If he does, he shows no sign of it, staring in quiet contemplation into the horizon.  _ What is he thinking about?  _ He doesn’t know. He’s tempted to ask just to break the silence even momentarily, but that won’t solve the problem. It’s just a temporary distraction for what needs to be done.

Truth be told Yuuri knows exactly what’s in the way. It’s all he hasn’t said. All his grief. He told Viktor he has it, they both  _ know,  _ but he’s said nothing. Even after all that’s happened, he’s scared to bring it up, so it continues to twist and churn and burn in his soul, eating him up alive. He knows he should, that he’s perfectly allowed to and if anything Viktor is obligated to hear him out.

“…Yuuri?” Viktor calls out, snapping Yuuri out of his lost in thought trance. It’s obvious Viktor wants to ask him what’s bothering him, but doesn’t.  _ Probably because he doesn’t feel like he has the right to.  _ Their not talking doesn’t just affect him. Hell,  _ isn’t not talking part of what lead to this to begin with? _ But he says nothing.

The silence settles again, this time leaving the atmosphere even more awkward with Viktor’s unanswered question. _ This was a chance and you blew it.  _ It doesn’t have to be that way. Yuuri knows. And he…he doesn’t want it to.

“Yuuri if—” 

“Viktor I—”

Silence.

“…You first.” Viktor prompts.

“I think…that I need to start talking myself. About me. If we’re ever going to get anywhere.” Yuuri stops, waiting expectantly for Viktor to say something.

Viktor nods. “I think that would be good, if that’s what you want. I was…” Viktor hesitates, glancing up at Yuuri with vague unease in his eyes. “going to ask if you wanted to.”

Yuuri hopes the look he gives Viktor comes across as even a little reassuring. “I do,” Yuuri agrees. He takes a deep breath to collect his thoughts.  _ Now where do I begin? _

> < < … > > <

It’s a slow process getting Yuuri to open up, Viktor’s noticed. It doesn’t come out in long rambles but in small bits. Maybe they’re skating, or exploring recreated areas of the world in the general afterlife, or eating just because they can, and Yuuri will say something. It’s never a lot, and Viktor finds he can’t force Yuuri to elaborate. But he does talk.

He talks about how he misses home. How he misses skating, and Phichit, and how he really wishes he could see his family again. How he wanted to make a skating comeback—to skate on the same ice as Viktor and win, which he couldn’t do in Sochi. He talks about all that he’s dreamed of, and all that he’s lost, and how much it all hurts, but he never yells at Viktor. Viktor really isn’t sure why.

They’re taking a walk through a version of Saint Petersburg that is slightly older than Viktor remembers it in the general afterlife. It’s quiet outside of Viktor occasionally pointing out the things he recognises and what they meant to him, if anything, with Yuuri nodding along, walking so close Viktor can almost feel him. “Yuuri, can I ask you something?” Viktor inquires, breaking the quiet lull in the conversation.

Yuuri hums, before responding. “Yeah go for it.”

“Why do you never…” a pause.  _ How do I phrase this exactly?  _ “snap at me.”

Yuuri stops walking and stares at Viktor questioningly, nose scrunched up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, whenever you talk about everything you miss, everything I stole from you…outside when I first told you, you haven’t—” but he gets cut off, as Yuuri grabs his wrist.

“I’m not angry with you anymore.” Yuuri states, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but there’s an insistence to it. Like it’s something he’s been trying to say this whole time.

“You’re…not?”  _ Why not?! _

“No. Viktor I—” Yuuri groans in frustration, and almost lets go but doesn’t. He can’t make eye contact. “I’m never going to stop missing my life in terms of what could have been. My death will always hurt, no matter how much time has passed but…I’ve made enough peace with it. There’s a lot I miss, and a lot I won’t have, but spending my entire afterlife angry with you about it…doesn’t seem worth it.” Yuuri forces himself to make eye-contact. “I forgive you.” The weight of those words hits Viktor like a ton of bricks, but at the same time Viktor feels…lighter. He can’t stop himself from just staring at Yuuri, filled with bewilderment and awe and happiness.

A deep sigh from Yuuri snaps him out of his reverie. “So no I’m not going to yell at you, even if that’s what you want, or think you deserve, now are we going to finish sight seeing or what?” Yuuri smiles like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and Viktor can’t help but smile back.

“Of course.” The smile on his face only grows larger when Yuuri grabs his hand. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. Officially everything is over. I'm sorry if it's shorter than you were expecting, but truthfully there wasn't much to cover. But you guys deserves just a little bit more, and something sweet, so I wanted to provide.
> 
> I really want to thank all of you for reading this once again. I'm endlessly grateful. I'm so glad you stuck with me this whole time. Thank you very much.
> 
> A couple of more things. If you're interested in every little rule about this afterlife, I plan on compiling a note about it which I'll link to once it's complete. Or. As complete as it will ever get. I never got to put every little detail in here, and I know some of you were curious about it. 
> 
> The final thing is what I plan on doing next. I mentioned in the last note I was going to have you help me pick, but I'm actually just going to go with both. But I'll still tell you about them! With very unprofessional summaries it'll be great.
> 
> The first is an AU of this AU, where Viktor doesn't kill himself, and they switch It might just be a long one shot, but then this was also supposed to be that AND LOOK HOW THAT TURNED OUT. It's not going to be that long, and I'm writing it as a gift to all of you to be honest. That and because, the other thing I'm writing is going to be a Commitment™ so I'd like to have something to take a break to.
> 
> The other idea that I'm really excited about is another soulmate AU, although this time with soulmarks that appear at 18. But. With time travel. I'm not done planning it yet, so it might be a while, but the basic premise is that it's the future. We've had soulmark databases to find your soulmate since the 1990s and it's only taken off from then. So Yuuri uses it only to find his soulmate is a figure skater from the 2000s. Basically he invents time travel and shit happens it's gonna be great. 
> 
> And that's it. This note is officially far too long but if you're interested in either of those I hope to see you there whenever they start. Once again thank you all so so so much. You're the best.


End file.
